vituperation

September 19, 2003

Thanks to reader kames, who linked me from a Runner’s World forum for my diatribe on Dr. Pill.

Yeah, I made that up. Pretty good, no? Get it? Dr. PILL!

Anyway, by following the referral back, I found that the good huckster has a web site wherein his products are showcased. The site is http://www.shapeup.com. There’s not much of anything there except a picture and a request for your email address, but I’m sure there’ll be plenty of sage advice soon. That way, people can learn from the Doc that all they have to do to lose weight is change their thinking and eating.

Oh, and take 22 pills a day.

Note the product tagline: This time is different. Ain’t that the truth? Most other diet pill plans (Herbalife excluded) only want you to take three or four pills a day. Twenty-two a day really IS different!

The spud, being fourteen and therefore filled with all the knowledge about everything there ever was, fancies herself a bit of an Ann Landers. As such, she’s created her own web page (and what a nightmare THAT was, let me add, trying to explain to her how web pages work) on Geocities, and she would like for you all to submit your burning questions to her so she can dispense a bit of her ageless wisdom for you.

Perverts, freaks, and assholes be warned: We monitor her email account.

If you’d like to visit her template-made site, the URL is right here. And remember, should you get some advice from her: she’ll be out on the road, driving, in a few months.

It’s no secret around here that I have a love-hate relationship with my cell phone. Actually, now that I think about it, there’s no love involved at all. It’s just a plain hate relationship.

The reason I hate my cell phone is simple: I can never hear anything out of it unless my ear is perfectly aligned with the little sound hole. Truly it’s an annoying thing. Today, I decided to get a new cell phone, since I’m almost as famous as Tom Hanks. Calls from media moguls, and all that, you know.

After much discussion with Robyn, we decided that probably the best phone for me would be the flip-type, because they seem to have more sound holes –

As always, I like to use the technical terms. Speaking of technical terms, a kind reader emailed me after my car-in-the-yard writeup to tell me the finger thingies on scissors are called tangs. Used like “When Bob flew out of the car, he landed on his tang and broke it.” Tang sure is a multi-faceted word, isn’t it? Depending on the situation, you can eat it, drink it, screw it, or lay on it. What else has that many uses?

– than the phone I currently own. I called the cell phone place early this morning to find out how much a plain-jane (ie no games, no cameras, etc) flip-phone was, and the girl who took my call said I could get one for fifty bucks after a rebate. That sounded reasonable, so I headed down to T-Mobile.

The store was nice and cool, a respite from the heat outside, and the only people in it when I walked through the door were the two people working there. I made my way to the guy, because he was closest.

“Hi,” I said, “I need to get a new phone.”

“For a new account or for an existing account?”

“An existing one.”

He took my cell number, my name, part of my SSN, and a blood sample to make sure I was authorized to have my phone.

“Do you know what kind of phone you want?” he asked, walking to the array of super-expensive phones that do everything but wipe your butt for you. These are reserved for the special set of people who think they’re really important (close your mail client, you important-feeling cell phone users).

“I just need a plain flip phone,” I said, perhaps a little snidely. My cell phone annoys the FUCK out of me because I can never hear it, and the last thing I wanted was someone trying to sell me a $300 replacement. My phone, after all, was the free one that comes with getting an account. “No games, no cameras, nothing like that. Just a plain flip phone. I just need one I can hear.”

“You can’t hear your phone?”

“If I have it lined up perfectly with my ear I can hear it fine, but if I move it the tiniest bit I can’t hear anything.” I began to grow annoyed, not at the guy but at my phone. The mere mention of it can set my teeth on edge. “A phone I can’t hear is pretty much useless,” I added.

“That’s weird,” he said, “that model is one of our loudest phones.”

“Oh, it’s not the volume I have a problem with, it’s the position. Like I said, I can hear it fine when it’s lined up right.”

“Hmmm. Can I see your phone?”

I handed over the phone with a smug look. He looked at it, pressed a couple of buttons, and spoke.

“The volume is turned all the way down,” he said, and pressed a few buttons before handing it back to me. “I turned it all the way up. Why don’t you try making a call now?”

I did, and found that as long as the phone was anywhere in the vicinity of my ear I could hear it perfectly.

How embarrassing.