Wont Fix

I have money. I have a house. I have things in the house that you should be able to use money to fix.

Not so.

A shortlist of some of the things:
* hot water on demand unit
* air handler
* potlights
* location of cold air return vent
* reskimming of popcorn ceilings

Each one of these has had at least one contractor just:
* not show up
* not reply to email(s)
* not reply to voicemail(s)
* not reply to inquiries using the webform on their site

In the more extreme cases, like the HVAC system, we’re now officially up to 5 or 6 (or more) contractors who have dropped the ball. Including one (Belyea Bros) who did a direct mail drop (“Having trouble with your hot water [people living on this street]?”), sent a guy out, gave us a quote and a huge pile of reassurance… and then we never heard (or heard back from) them again. Oh, no, I’m wrong. We did get another flyer from them.

We finally sucked it up yesterday and just had Direct Energy replace our broken hot water on demand system with a new one. Still a rental, but a newer model, for more money a month. Whatever, we thought, we just need to make some progress here.

This morning I turned on the tap… cold water only. Brand spanking new machine? “Error 25E”. Call an authorized service centre.

I did. They were supposed to be here between 1 and 5pm today.

It’s 5pm here now.

I’d have a bad case of the stabbies right now, if a little piece of my soul hadn’t just died. Or maybe it’s just not working because it’s dirty from not being able to shower all day. I should call an authorized service centre.

Email fairies

No, I don’t mean “send a nice catch-up message to your favourite homosexual person(s)”. Though you can do that too of course. I’ll wait here. (Mostly thinking about how cool it would be if calling someone a “fairy” as a pejorative slur instantly granted them magical fairy powers…of wroth and vengeance).

I mean: I need to procure a mail service where dispassionate people edit my replies to shitty emails.

I will hit send, and *floopitybloopityMAGIC* it will first be fired off to my team of email fairies. Who will edit out all the snark and edge I won’t even notice is there (until I re-read it immediately after sending), and edit in some nice productive conversation starters.  Simultaneously side-stepping and extinguishing any and all flaming piles of poop.

Option 2: I continue to try and develop these abilities in myself.

Stupid self-determination. Fine. I will do it myself. Fine. NO IT’S FINE. I ENJOY THE HARD SLOG OF BECOMING A BETTER PERSON. IN NO WAY DOES IT BURN AT MY HOLLOW CAUSTIC SOUL. I’M NOT SHOUTING, I’M JUST SPEAKING EMPHATICALLY.

Sigh. Type. Pause. Delete delete delete delete….

Continue Reading →

Plus it makes your brain, like, super skinny

So since I broke my iPod with sweat (HI-FIVE!), my ears are out flapping in the breeze when I “run”, and often catch little snippets of conversations.

Like this gem:

Coming up behind a woman walking down the street, I half notice that she’s wearing all workout gear, and looks quite fit (Women: 1, Deification of Malnourishment: 0). But as I jog past, I hear her cell phone conversation…

“… so I’m working out every day. I know right? I’m trying to lose, like, a pound a day.”

🙁

You win this round, Emaciation De-emancipation.

Sometimes life gives you a snakeskin thong.

Y’know how sometimes you like a band’s music, and you’re like “hey, I want a tshirt!”, and then you go looking for tshirt in their official shop, because you don’t want to screw them with a knockoff, and then you get there, and it’s all “we don’t really do tshirts for girls (except for this one tremendously fugly one), would you like an ill-fitting snakeskin thong made of plastic instead?”

RUSH Snakeskin

Yeah.

The accompanying text:
“This snakesking[sic] thong will make every woman’s wardrobe complete. If your man is a Rush fan, this thong will make his wildest fantasies come true. Well actually, that part is up to you, but at least you will look the part.”

Women’s Apparel options: 3 thongs, 1 tank, 1 tshirt

Sooo… you know that thing about how all Rush fans are guys?

Not helping your case fellas, not helping.

The episode where Audible tries to steal my money.

I know better than this.

I know better than to accept the freebie.

Because, as I’m always saying (nay, preaching) nothing is free. Nothing is cheap. It’s all coming out somewhere on the line.

When we see an “unbelievable” price on something at Walmart or H&M or whathaveyou, we should just go ahead and remove the quotation marks.  Since yes, it is actually unbelievable. In that it is not believable that you can produce a tshirt/stove/couch for that price.

Right, so Audible.

I listen to NPR, and NPR airs This American Life, and not so long ago, This American Life’s teaser included a promotion for Audible (one of their sponsors). “Special” for TAL listeners, you could get a free audiobook from Audible.

Again, I circle back to “I should have known better”.

But the teaser (I believe) mentioned such books as David Sedaris reading his “When You Are Engulfed In Flames”.

And lo, I became a sucker.

Clue #1 was when they required a credit card to set up your account.  This is always a show-stopper for me. If it’s a trial membership, or a free account, there is absofuckinglutely no reason for them to have my credit card.

But my eyes (and y’know, brain), they were blinded by the quest for a too-good-to-be true free bit ‘o’ Sedaris.

So I (just this once) signed up, and gave them my credit card info.

Now, the smart thing to do, and what I had planned on doing, was download the free sample audiobook, and then immediately cancel my account. Just to be safe.

But obviously something shiny must have been nearby, because I didn’t.

Weeks go by, and I get a whole lotta email spam from Audible (duh). I unsubscribe. (Though none of these emails make me bother to go and cancel my account as I am The Dumb).

Then I get my Visa bill.

$17.07 (foreign currency – USD $14.95).  Courtesy:  Audible.

W. T. F.

Now, I assume that legally, for them to charge my card, there must have been some terms stated somewhere associated with the freebie.  Possibly a mention of “if you don’t cancel w/in 30 days, you agree to membership”.  I’m not so fastidious in my Terms of Agreement clicking that I would know for sure. I will admit that.

But I do know for sure that this deal with the devil was willfully obscured.  That it was not clearly stated that accepting this free sample meant I was signing up for an AudibleListener Gold membership of $14.95/month. That, I am sure about.

At best, this little detail was thoroughly obfuscated behind the “totally” free sample.  Because however quickly you’re scanning terms, little details like “$14.95/month” tend to jump out at you.

Again, I acknowledge that to fall for this makes me a sucker.  I know how these things work. But maybe that’s why I feel extra put-out.  Because I /know/ that’s how these things work, and I still fell for it.  I picture a less online-shopping savvy demographic from the TAL listenership, and then I picture their Visa bills the month after they download their one free audiobook.

But now we come to the icing on my cake of indignation.  The part where I close my account.

I go to my account details to find out just what it is I’m signed up for.  Then I find a little link at the bottom that goes to “cancel account”.  Which takes me to a page with a drop-down list of reasons why I’m quitting.

I was pleased to find one which summed up my motivations rather nicely.  I believe it was along the lines of “I am upset with Audible”.  Huh.  Dear business — if that makes the list of frequently stated reasons for leaving…

Next page.  “We’re sorry you’re upset with Audible…”.  But has my account closed?  NO.  After the heartfelt regret that I’m unhappy is a statement saying that to continue cancellation, I need to contact Customer Service.   And here are their 1-800 numbers.

Fuck. that. noise.

Having done a little page logic-ing in my day, I decide that perhaps if I go back and choose a different answer, I will be able to cancel online.  So I go back, and choose the next closest response “I would prefer not to share my reasons”.  Suspecting that if I choose any of the reasons about compatibility or download troubles that I will just end up on a tech support page.

And a-ha! The “not sharing my reasons” takes me to a page which says that they’re closing my account and are sorry I’m deciding to go.

But is my account closed?  NO.

There is a button to “continue cancellation”.  Click.  Which takes me to a page which asks if it’s just a question of the money? Would I perhaps like to just put my account on hold? Again, I click “continue cancellation”.

But is my account closed? NO.

The next page is something along the lines of how I can come back any time, or something about getting a deal when I come back or… whatever.  Am I out yet?  Is my account closed?

Prize to the lovely lady in the front row who guessed… NO. (Prize == free audiobook at Audible.com!)

Finally, finally, I arrive on a page which says that I am out. My account is canceled.

Sick of this, and very annoyed, I head out for brunch.

When I return, the tab is still open, and I notice that my “continue cancellation” button had been replaced by a “customer feedback” button.

:rubs hands in glee.

What does the customer feedback form say?  Oh wait, it’s still open (find out why), let me just pop over and check for you.

::Girl from Ipanema::

Okay.  Customer Feedback page says:

As we process your cancellation, we would like to get your thoughts on the Audible service.

How likely are you on a scale of 1 through 10 to recommend Audible to your friends and family, with 10 being the most likely?

Y’wanna know why it’s still open?  Because every time I try to select “1”, and hit submit, I get bounced back to the question page again.

As we process your cancellation, we would like to get your thoughts on the Audible service.

How likely are you on a scale of 1 through 10 to recommend Audible to your friends and family, with 10 being the most likely?

Perhaps this is a by-product of the session going too long. Or perhaps it’s a browser thing.

Or perhaps, like the “I am upset with Audible”, it only goes through if you select “10”.

Water doesn’t need an adjective to be a beverage.

As Kate @ AH described it  “It’s Water!  Now with HFCS!”.

What is it?  Well read Wegman’s product description to find out:

“Sensible Solution: Low calorie; Helps hydrate kids. Finally, a great tasting water beverage kids will love to drink! Tip: Consuming 5-8 servings (8 fl oz each) of fluids per day is recommended by health professionals.”

What is it?  Why it’s Capri Sun Roarin’ Waters Fruit Flavored Water Beverage.

Helps hydrates kids?  Water beverage?  Fuck.  If you have fatass bastard kids who won’t drink water, then beat them, don’t add sugar.  And how fucking irresponsible to put a “tip” trying to associate this goodfornothing product with health professionals.

Okay fine, don’t beat your kids.  But don’t “hydrate” them with sugar water.  They really really really won’t drink water?  Well then how about watered down fruit juice.  Anyone?  Anyone?

“Adding sugar, it’s working well for us so far America.” (slash Canada)

Worst of all this is not an isolated product, but part of an emerging (and fucking disturbing) new trend to add the worst kinds of sugar (crystalline fructose, aka the bad HFCS, plus HFCS regular) to water and then try to pass it off as a health drink.  Fucking.  Disturbing.  and. Fucking.  Shameful.

See also:

* Glacéau (read: Coke)’s bullshit VitaminWater, plus vitaminenergy and fruitwater

“The success of the Glacéau brand launched a new marketing category in the beverage industry: enhanced water. Glacéau’s slogan is ‘hydrate responsibly’. ”

Thanks Glacéau, for coming up with a slogan that advocates against your own product.  Numbnuts.

(Lots of swearing in this post?  Only just enough I think.)

I fucking hate the Toronto Interfuckingnational Film Festival.

September 8th, and a surplus shows up in Toronto of:

  • people wearing badges on lariats around their necks (fucking seriously, if you’re not standing in a line-up *right now*, take it the fuck off)
  • men wearing blazers and jeans
  • men wearing blazers and jeans and loafers
  • men wearing blazers and jeans and loafers and sunglasses that cost as much as a small car, carrying weird attache cases and talking on their cellphones
  • women wearing there’s-no-such-thing-as-too-much quantities of makeup and jewelery
  • women wearing skinny belts worn over their shirts, very high up their torso, approximately 3 inches south of their boobs
  • people staring at other people trying to decide if the other people are important people
  • overheard conversations that revolve around when Vince Vaughn is arriving in town
  • random lineups in places that aren’t big enough to accommodate them
  • white tents
  • black velvet rope
  • red carpets

And speaking of the last item – I got ”hey!”’d today for walking over a red carpet (I’m fairly certain). I got off the streetcar, and was walking down the sidewalk. Sidewalk which was covered in a length of red carpet from a front door down to the curb. I am *NOT* walking on the street to avoid stepping on your swatch of red carpet, so you can fuck right off for thinking it. I actually saw one of the little red carpet setting up weenies hop onto the streetcar while the doors were still open to talk to the driver. I can only presume what it was about – but I have a sneaking terrible suspicion that it was to ask him to drop passengers off on the other side of the red carpet.

*Oh yes, and the fuckhead who lives downstairs has extra chairs on his balcony, and has cleared the shoes off the top level of his shoe rack in the hallway. The little wanker is expecting visitors. This cannot end well for our hero…
Update: Looking for solidarity in my hate of the TIFF, I googled ”I hate the Toronto International Film Festival”.
Which yielded two articles, one of which contained the following quote. All I can say is ‘amen’.

“As I see it, it’s 33 per cent about the movies, 33 per cent about the stars, and 33 per cent about making Toronto feel like Hollywood for a week – complete with stretch hummers, red carpets, and plenty of superficial movie types.
So, while I do really love 33 per cent of it, I still hate well over half of it.”

I don’t like the Toronto Film Festival.

TIFF is aptly named I think (Toronto International Film Festival), because it makes me feel tiffy with my city. Okay, a little lame, but it sets the tone.

I can’t help contrasting TIFF with the Hot Docs film festival. Hot Docs comes to Toronto with things to say. It attracts thoughtful audiences, and launches interesting films. TIFF is about star-power and “movies”, not films. It attracts starhunters (star-gazers isn’t accurate), and the whole city seems to develop an inferiority complex. Newspapers are full of articles like ”Where to shop with the stars!”, embracing my two great ”loves”: starhunters and blind consumerism.

For the duration of the festival I’m surrounded by this weirdness. I work on Bloor, just a hop skip and a jump away from Yorkville – the mecca of the stars out buying anti-aging cream and $795 jeans. People come breathlessly back into my office to report that Al Pacino is next door at Hugo Boss and someone turned a corner and almost poked Dustin Hoffman in the eye. Co-workers suddenly want to go north for lunch, to see if they can spot Ashton Kutcher or Sarah Polley. The desperation to find someone ’worthwhile’ is palpable.

I went out with two particularly tall, swanky looking co-workers, and suddenly we’re getting second looks as we line up for Starbucks coffee – people are literally camped out there and try to figure out if you’re ’somebody’.

At least then I get to come home. To the neighbourhood of The Drake Hotel. Which got featured on a tv special about where the stars will be while they’re in town.

I miss my lazy summer Toronto…