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by Paul
Mar 15, 2007 10:37
This one might take a while. The other day I ordered a package from the internets. Well, I guess I didn't order a package. The package came for free with the item I had ordered inside of the box, packing materials, and tape. That's not the point. The point is... the company I ordered from provided me with a tracking number.
Have you seen this? Have you heard of these things? The tracking numbers? (See that? I can be Jay Leno too. All you have to do is ask if people have seen whatever you're about to say afterward.)
Anyway... quick recap for those of you who are internet retarded (and yes I understand the irony of this blog existing on the internet). This is how it works:
a) You order the item.
2) You are assigned a tracking number by the chosen shipping carrier (UPS, FedEx, DHL, USPS, Camel, Bike Messenger)
d) You can go to the shipping carrier's website, input a unique (more on this later) tracking number, and BAM! They will show you where your package is on its journey. Track its progress. Have a car service meet it upon arrival. Plan a surprise party. The options are only limited by your imagination!
At least on paper. The USPS gives the numbers out but they don't even track packages. The USPS numbers are actually "Delivery confirmation numbers." Look, maybe if I'm a business that matters to me that I can prove that somebody got my package, but I'm the recipient in this case. I don't need a number to look up to prove my package was delivered and signed for. I SIGNED FOR IT. The confirmation that it was delivered IS THE PACKAGE.
UPS likes to reuse their tracking numbers. I've ordered a package through them, gone to the website and been informed that my package has been shipped and delivered... 2 months ago.
FedEx had a great one for me recently. I ordered on a Friday. The tracking number said it would be delivered Monday (Three days). Monday came and went with no package, and no updated progress at all (Four days?). Then Monday night it said they just picked up the package and it would be delivered on Thursday (Ah, ok.. six days, but technically still 3 since they just got the package right?). On Wednesday I check again to see if it's still on time, and guess what? It's on the truck for delivery! Awesome. An entire day early (Six days, minus one day is five days). Estimated delivery date on the tracking site: Thursday (Wait... so six days?). Despite it being on the truck as we speak. Nevermind the fact they told me when they could deliver a package they hadn't even picked up yet.
Wow.
I mean for crying out loud, it's no wonder they're constantly losing packages when they start tracking them and promising when they'll be delivered, before they ever get picked up in the first place.
You know... maybe I'm just nitpicking here, but it seems to me if the purpose of a tracking number is to gauge the progress of a package en route to me or you, and it's completely inaccurate, it's hardly tracking at all is it?
In this specific case these companies just don't want you calling them asking where your crap is. However I think this is indicative of a larger problem in our country. We're a nation of underachievers and we want credit for any progress whatsoever, no matter how menial that progress may be. Hell, we give out awards for "Most Improved". What we really mean is it's the "Sucked the Most at First, but not Anymore" award.As of 12:08 PM PST, this blog entry is scheduled for delivery at 12:05 PM PST yesterday. I mean tomorrow. Oh wait we just delivered it to you. Check our website. Have a great day!
by Paul
Jan 17, 2007 10:35
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I was having some deep thoughts as I passed a retarded driver on the way to work today. In this lady's (you're not shocked it was a woman right?) passenger seat was a beagle. Obviously not as cool as my beagle was, but nevertheless a cute dog. As I'm passing I says to myself "That's a cute dog."
I get to thinking about how common a phrase that is, and more specifically how we direct it to dog owners:
Pedestrian: Awe he's so cute!
Dog Owner: Thanks!
Thanks? What exactly are you thanking the person for? Are you the dog's parent? Are your great genes what enabled the dog to be so cute? Was it the gay bow you put on his or her neck? Perhaps this is a mystery that can never be solved.
Of course not. What you're really thanking them for is complimenting YOUR taste in dogs. Afterall, you picked the dog out right? It would be like getting a compliment on what you're wearing; you picked the clothes out.
In that case, how dare you. Don't you think that's a little cocky when you're beaming with pride over such a superficial, self-centered and conceited compliment? You've got some nerve, and I think you owe me a heartfelt apology.
No, I said HEARTFELT.
What's worse is, I get the same type of compliments about my incredible good looking car. When people say "Awesome car!", I don't say "Thanks!" I say "I know." Why? I didn't make the car awesome, people. The car would be awesome even if Bin Laden owned it. I say I know, because I know it's awesome. Yet somehow, that makes me a dick.
I disagree. Being a dick would be driving my car around the block where I live a couple extra times on my way home before I parked it. Being a dick would be following "I know..." with, "If you recognize my car is awesome, why didn't you apply the same decision process to your car?" Even then, I think I'm just asking a genuine question; but, hey everyone has an opinion right?
Think about it. For the record, if you're thinking "Well I agree with you but you're still kind of a jerk." then that makes you a jerk too because you agreed. Take it from me, being a jerk isn't half bad. |
| Come on in, the water is fine. |
by Paul
Nov 4, 2006 10:34
Today we had to put our dog to sleep. I'm writing this because he deserves it.
Everyone talks about how their dog is so smart and special, but never the less, I can guarantee my dog was cooler than your dog. My dog had the best poker face on the planet. My dog got more chicks than me. My dog will get on your bed in the middle of the night and then get mad at YOU for disturbing his sleep. My dog has been to the emergency room more times than a daredevil with attention deficit disorder, and not only did he live through all of them, but he'd make the same deadly (consumption of the entire 1 lb. box of chocolate) mistake again if you let him.
My dog had the best sense of comic timing without ever trying any harder than the effort it took him to steal your seat on the couch when you went to the bathroom; and the "What?" look on his face when you returned to find out you're not as smart as an animal.
He is, and will be remembered by everyone who ever met him. The entire neighborhood knows his name.
Neither John nor I would have half the hilarious thoughts we have without the constant inspiration from him. He taught me how to do whatever the hell I wanted, knowing that at some point after the fact you would see it his way and appreciate how funny it was. He was my idol, my inspiration to be entertaining without actually trying, and my oldest and best friend.
You fucking rock dog.R.I.P. Coco: 1990 - 2006
by Paul
Oct 31, 2006 10:33
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but nobody is perfect. This includes myself, despite all the obvious evidence to the contrary. Trust me, I'm struggling with this realization as much as the rest of you.
There's a commercial out there floating around about DLP televisions. Basically DLP is a technology created by Texas Instruments, possibly from Texas, I don't know. Yes THAT Texas Instruments. Yes, like your calculator. For the last time, YES! Can we move on now? Thanks.
Anyway... the commercial features a little girl standing next to an elephant, talking to some guy who looks like he's there to repair either an air conditioner, or maybe a washing machine; no that can't be right, those Maytag repairmen never have anything to do.
I digress.
Nevermind how preposterous this commercial is on face value, as I'm sure many of you out there with 8 year old caucasian daughters, dress your children in obnoxiously colored easter dresses on any random day of the year, and let them stand dangerously close to a live elephant under the supervision of only a Maytag man, arguably in the middle of an indoor football field. You are the same parents who let your sons grow up to blog in run-on sentences. Here's my problem. The slogan of this campaign is "It's amazing, it's the mirrors."
See folks, DLP technology uses millions of tiny mirrors to somehow make your television's picture look better. That's great. The problem is, the little girl says "It's the meers."
So... at first I thought I was hearing things. The 5th time, I knew she was saying it wrong. By the 23rd time, it was completely driving me up a wall. Am I going to hell because I constantly scream at a young child who can't even hear me? "GODDAMNIT IT'S PRONOUNCED MIR-RORS YOU STUPID ASS LITTLE GIRL!" Of course not. I'm going to hell for laughing at a story my brother told me about him laughing at a single-mother crying; because she sounded like Homer Simpson sobbing. Still, I'm pretty sure this little girl thing isn't helping my cause much.
It's not her fault. I know. To be honest, I'm not even mad at her personally; but who is in charge of this commercial? Are children also filming it? Perhaps a director with a sthpeech impediment? What the hell?! Can't anybody hear the girl say "meers". For crying out loud just jump in. "Hey sweet heart... it's pronounced 'mir-rors'." Somebody fucking noticed that. Don't tell me nobody noticed, because I noticed. Is it supposed to be cute or something? Because it's not. It's wrong. Meers isn't even a word. I looked it up to make sure.
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| If mispronounciation is what passes as cute in the year 2006, then the terrorists have already won. |
by Paul
Aug 7, 2006 10:29
Uncle Paul is about to tell you all a story, without molesting anybody in the process. The title of this story is "The Worst Story Ever." Now don't let the title mislead you, this is the best story ever.
Basically a long long long long time ago, before the wind; before the snow. Lived a man, lived a man I know. Lived a freak of nature named Sir Psycho.
That being said, my story has nothing to do with Sir Psycho. My story is about a car ride in the middle of a winter night.
A close associate of mine was transporting me from one domicile to mine. The length of this trip in subjective distance is 3 blocks. The time span door-to-door is about two minutes.
Now on this fateful night, I sat in the car with my associate, and proceded to improvise a song. My associate even joined in, offering both harmony and chorus, along with unique verse as well. The lyrics were silky smooth. The melody oh-so right. Even the cadence and depth of the subject matter was amazing. None of the song was preconceived; all of it was grammy ready.
Upon arrival at my house, my associate and I completed our chart topping single, and nodded at each other in approval of how amazingly off the hinges we are with our song singing skillz.
Have you ever had one of those moments where something really awesome happens, and then it takes a split second after that feeling of awesomeness to actually appreciate the scale of what just occurred? That happens to me every time I have a thought. That happened to me when I bit it riding a moped. That happened to me when I jumped out of that second story window. That happened to me when I drove an ATV off a 30 foot sand dune, ultimately resulting in Mexican stitches. That ALSO happened to me after we finished the song. Now, it was sinking in that this song was so awesome, that I would be hard pressed to ever improvise a song of equal, let alone superior, quality.
The song is so good, that I tell people this story all the time.With that in mind, I can't remember a single lyric of the entire thing; and THAT, ladies, is why this is the Worst Story Ever Told.
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