Thursday, February 27, 2014

Spam email of the week



Subject: QUAYLE - 2016 BUMPER STICKERS NOW AVAILABLE



Cool! What?



Dear Mr. FVP Quayle, 

Please run for President in 2016.



I uh … I’m not sure I’m supposed to have recei-



I can sense the media people now realize the days of cracking ignorant jokes at your and quite frankly everyone's expense are long gone.



Pretty sure those jokes were only at Dan Quayle’s expense. Also they are long gone because they happened 22 years ago. The days of taking pot shots at Caligula’s barbarism are long gone. Okay, it’s safe to come out now, Caligula!



Two days ago I sent these proposed bumper stickers by email to about 300 newspaper publishers, editors and reporters in Indiana just to see what the response would be. I only received one negative reply from someone who was an obvious Obama supporter.



I’m not sure ignoring ridonk bumper sticker-related emails counts as an endorsement. Nevertheless, it’s official – Dan Quayle has taken Indiana! Only 49 more to go!



Thank you for being the kind of person that you are.



Are you talking to me or Dan Quayle? (Amazingly, that is not the first time I have asked that. Long story.)


  QUAYLE - 2016   
SINCERE, HONEST, SMART, EXPERIENCED, HUMBLE
   HELLO MY FRIENDS, WE MEET AGAIN   


He’s the fifth one because he was constantly accused of not being the third one. Also I am not your friend.


  QUAYLE - 2016 
HAD YOU RATHER MISSPELLED POTATO
   THAN LEARNED TO SPELL OBAMA?   


Makes no sense.

   QUAYLE - 2016   
OF COURSE "HE'S NO JFK"
 HE'S MR. FAMILY VALUES 


Dan Quayle: not the president who died 50 years ago. Also not an adulterer? I don’t know.


      CANDICE BERGEN      
PUBLICLY ADMITTED
 "QUAYLE WAS RIGHT"  


wtf. I seriously want to put this bumper sticker on my car.


 THE WASHINGTON POST...
"QUAYLE WAS RIGHT"
  RIGHT THEN - RIGHT NOW- THE RIGHT CHOICE  


Right about what? The capital of Arkansas? Global warming? The winner of the The Voice Season 2? It’s almost like this bumper sticker is taking something out of context.


 QUAYLE - 2016  
DAN'S THE MAN WITH THE PLAN WHO CAN
     WIN FOR AMERICA!    

This one rhymes.

 QUAYLE - 2016 
THE BEST CANDIDATE WE'VE SEEN IN 25 YEARS
  SO THE JOKE'S ON WHO.....LENO?  

Seriously what the hell is going on? Is this the Dan Quayle Worldwide Tour of Bumper Sticker Revenge For Perceived Slights? Will no one be spared?

Candice Bergen
JFK
The Washington Post
Jay Leno
Oliver North
Amelia Earhart
Sinbad
Mr. Belvedere

   QUAYLE - 2016  
LET'S ALL THANK GOD FOR GIVING US
 MR. FAMILY VALUES 

Yes, let’s.

  GOT QUAYLE ?  
2016
   YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY   

Got Milk reference circa 1993 + Pepsi commercial reference circa 1991 + bumper sticker campaign = relevant presidential candidate circa 2016

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

All work and no playhouse a likely outcome



Hey, do you guys remember that column I wrote about the magical back yard garden I was tending? Yes? Great! That garden is dead.

I don’t know what happened. The zucchinis I had planted there did so well that, had they grown vertically instead of horizontally, I could have reenacted Jack and the Beanstalk for the girls. Instead it was more like Little Shop of Horrors. “Feed me, Seymour!” the zucchini plants screamed at me as I whacked them down with a machete, defiantly exclaiming, “My name is MIKE!”

So that was how that ended. I tried to plant other things, which always looked great immediately after planting. Then the sun would come out. 

I was left with a 6X6 block of turf in the corner of the yard that was watered every day via our drip system even though nothing grew there. This is a great use of resources, I thought to myself daily while struggling to come up with an alternative.

Then it hit me. A playhouse for the girls. Not only would this be a fantastic use of that space, it would also give the girls a special place to go to play pretend, establish their sisterly bond and also GET OUT OF MY FACE.

I’m sorry, I just zoned out for a second. Where was I? Oh yes, playhouse. But what kind of playhouse?

The plastic playhouses I viewed online were a little toddlerish and did not have the refined aesthetic I was going for. I have enough plastic junk around the house that is supposed to resemble architecture, thank you very much. I wanted the playhouse to look like an actual house, just on a smaller scale. Who knows, maybe the girls would want to live there for six months out of the year. Therefore, I’d have to get a wooden playhouse.

Wood + Valley summers = great idea. This is a proven formula in the field of sarcastics. So, I’d have to find a playhouse that was pre-treated and mostly cedar, which, according to my wife and not any inherent manly knowledge on my own part, is more resilient to extreme weather.

Speaking of manly knowledge, adding to my search criteria was that it needed to be relatively simple to put together. I actually came across one playhouse that I really liked, and which the customer reviews said was pretty easy to build. One of the reviewers went on to say, “I only had one problem, when two holes weren’t pre-drilled, but it was nothing a ¼” drill bit couldn’t solve,” and I immediately clicked off the page, closed the computer and ran away.

Eventually, I found one. Every review was positive and claimed it takes 3-4 hours to put together, so it should only take me a few weeks. It has a working doorbell and a freakin’ bay window. It arrived this week. In 100 parts. I am scared.

So scared, in fact, that I’ve already recruited my neighbor to help me. He is a Vietnam veteran, although I suspect his most vivid recollections of trauma involve the times I’ve called him to assist me in putting something together or to fix something I have tried and failed to put together. When “we” installed our water softener, it went like this:

Ron: (doing all the work) Hey Mike, do you have a pipe wrench?

Me: (looks up from iPhone) That depends. What is a pipe wrench? Actually, I’ll just Google it, hold on …

Ron: You know what? I’ll just run home real quick.

Me: Sorry, Ron. It’s still loading.

So we’ll see it how it goes. Hopefully I won’t have to take a machete to it, which is the only way I know how to judge the success of my home-based projects.

Note: This column appears in the 2/27 issue of The Glendale Star and the 2/28 issue of the Peoria Times.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Spam email of the week

Subject: call him at (781) 261-0709

OKAY! (frantically picks up phone, dials number ... thinks for a second, hangs up) Wait. Call who?

Our delivery agent is currently in Atlantic City International Airport; Address: 101 Atlantic City International Airport, Atlantic City, NJ 08234.with your package,

So you're telling me I have to pick up my "Fisher Price Loving Family Exclusive Holiday Dollhouse" at the Atlantic City Airport? Because that is literally the only thing I've ordered in the last week. This doesn't sound right.

His name is Mr. Dan Udo

Oh hold up - it's Mr. Dan Udo? The Mr. Dan Udo? From high school? Oh word, why didn't you say so! Gonna holla at a playa ... what's that number again?

His Number;call him at (781) 261-0709

Calls number (really)

HELLO. PLEASE STATE YOUR NAME AFTER THE TONE, AND GLOBAL VOICE WILL TRY AND CONNECT YOU. Beep.

Me: Hank Farthead (not my real name, but the most legit-sounding name I could think of under pressure) (I am calling from work, by the way, and I hope someone outside of my office is listening)

Rings ... rings ... THE GOOGLE SUBSCRIBER YOU HAVE CALLED IS NOT AVAILABLE. PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE TONE. Beep.

Me: Yo Dan, it's me, Hank. Listen, I got the email that you have the package. That's what she said, LOL, J/K. Listen, I'll meet you at the airport in like ... three days. Cause it's like, I live in Arizona and have a family and everything, and it's gonna take me a hot minute to make arrangements, aiiiight? Cool. So just chill and don't let go of my package, LOL.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

There’s a thin line between a stream and a scream

I recently had the wonderful and rare pleasure of a night out with my lovely wife and good friends. After a few beers, I needed to use the restroom.


It should be mentioned here that this endeavor used to be quite simple. Back before kids, when at least one weekend evening involved time spent at a restaurant or an endearingly terrible bar, I could easily locate the bathroom because I either knew where it was or could draw upon my experience and instinct to find it. But now? It seems many establishments, in my time away from the game, have tried to attain some sort of post modern hipster identity and take immense pride in confusing patrons 35 and up. The restroom isn’t easily located because, what is this, 2007? Pfft. Please use our restaurant’s app to find the bathroom or answer a series of riddles from our host who is dressed like a character from “A Clockwork Orange.”


But I’m not even here to talk about that. No, what’s more disconcerting to me is what happens when I actually manage to locate the restroom. On this particular evening, for example, after turning a corner to what I feared would be the kitchen, my relief at locating the restrooms was immediately dashed by this perplexing question: Umm, which door do I use?


Now, granted, my options being “Burts” and “Bettys,” it was, in retrospect, somewhat easy to solve this dilemma. But again, a few beers in and under the immense pressure of making the decision before someone catches you trying to make this decision … let’s just say I had to do some thinking. I’m not a Betty, right? That’s totally a female’s name. But some guys go by Kelly, which is almost like Betty. No, I can’t be Betty. I am definitely a Burt. I’m Burt? For crying out loud, pull yourself together, Burt! Make a decision. Here goes nothing …


I was right, I am Burt. I want to make that clear. Still, had this been the first time I walked into a bathroom and felt an overwhelming sense of relief at seeing a urinal, I probably wouldn’t, ya’ know, write a column about it. But it wasn’t.


There is a restaurant near our home that also, believe it or not, has restrooms. The signs posted next to each door, however, are small, grey, feature-less silhouettes that are apparently supposed to assist human beings in matching their gender to the appropriate door. The only difference between the two signs—something that can only be distinguished after some serious up-close squinting—is that the girl is, I think, wearing a skirt. I’m only confident of the correct door because of my frequent patronage. Were this an Irish pub, however, where the men wear kilts and the women are all Sinead O’Connor, there might be a problem.


There have been many other occasions of bathroom confusion. Are you a bloke or a blondie? A cutie or a patooty? A Rembrandt or a Kahlo? Jiminy Christmas I HAVE TO PEE.


I’m all for hipster influences, but maybe they shouldn’t infiltrate the area of an establishment where misidentification can result in a lawsuit. MENS and WOMENS has done quite well for itself, I believe. Posted scientific diagrams of genitalia would, though graphic, be better options than this current trend.


So anyway, I am never going out again. Or at least until hipster culture cycles around to where it’s cool again to be boring and direct. In the meantime, good luck out there, everyone. Love, Burt

Note: This column appears in the 2/20 issue of The Glendale Star and the 2/21 issue of the Peoria Times.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Spam email of the week

Subject: Online Horse Lover

Cool, I've been anxious to become engaged in a conversation re: online horse lovers for quite some time now. Preferably with an actual online horse lover. Fingers crossed!

Hello Handsome , 

I just want to get this out of the way now, based on that salutation: I am NOT a horse, okay? So chill.

How are you doing today ?

Good. But feeling a bit hoarse congested.

My Name is Anita 32 Years old female never been married with no kids and I also don't bother with ages .

"Age Ain't Nothing But a Number" - Aaliyah, and also Anita

Seriously, age. Pfft. Who needs it? My wife is 106. My limo driver is a baby. I have menopause. I don't give a sh*t.

I am kinda new to this internet stuff and i saw it through advertisement

OUT NOW: THE INTERNET! SIGN UP TODAY ON YOUR COMPUTER OR WHATEVER AND GET YOUR HORSE LOVE ON

and decided to see how lucky i am in searching for a man who is Caring,Loving,Truthful, Honesty,Trust worthy,Understanding,Calm, Patience and also God fearing.

I am all of those words! THE INTERNET WORKS.

Well, I just came across your profile and I cant believe why a Handsome man like you been alone also no ladies are chasing after you and I would like to get to know you if you don't mind .

Not sure what profile you saw that indicated I am alone. Maybe my profile on HorseGuysWhoAreSingleAndLonely.net? That was supposed to be a secret. My other profiles indicate I have many girls chasing me LOL they are my daughters. I mean, what? I am a cowboy.

As i said earlier am new to all this internet stuffs and I dont know much about here and I want to get to know you also , i would like you to feel free and contact me on my Y a h o o Id or E m a i l {At } {Anitavorsah633 }

What do you MEAN you're new to the Internet? Your way around an email address suggests a wealth of Internet-related experience, and I'm not just saying that. Anyway, sure, I'd love to get in touch with you.

/composes new message to Anitavorsah633{At}Y a h o o IDorherEmail/

/hits send/

/computer explodes/

so that we can get to know each other and share some pictures which I think that would be a better idea for us to get to know each other ..





Oh okay, we've already started sending pictures? Great. Looks like Slovenia has The Gap. Anyway, here is me.




Sorry, that is an old pic. I am 87 now and my horse is dead. Do you have a horse I could borrow?

I will be happy to see you there Handsome and feel free to contact me

When are we going to talk about horse-

Stay Bless....Hope to hear from you back

You, too, stay bless, and also plan to hear from me back on Internet stuffs me just /trips over words, falls/

*h/t to the indispensable, Handsome, and Calm Bill for the spam*

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Cultured man sees Italian libretto, gets parking validated


I try to be a man of culture (a strong statement coming from someone who used to participate in lengthy email chains regarding the most recent “Flavor of Love” episode). I listen to NPR sometimes. I fashion myself a great fan of “indie” music. Occasionally I will read a book, or at least leave one on the end table near my bed with the best of intentions, only to waste away the minutes before slumber playing Words With Friends on my phone instead. Point is that I can do words and stuff.

It was culture I had in mind when I considered my wife’s Christmas gift this past year. I usually like to arrange some kind of date rather than buy her a material gift because I value our time spent together more than lavishing her with goods. Also because I’ve tried to buy her material things before and it hasn’t gone well. Also because I saw the movie Blood Diamond in a hotel once. Also because I cannot afford diamonds.

Speaking of movies, last year for her gift we went to see Les Miserables even though I generally cannot stand musicals. Luckily I am a very cultured man and enjoyed myself greatly, especially the part where Russell Crowe was in the movie because he was in Gladiator.

When it came time to consider this year’s gift, I wondered if I should maintain my cultural ways. I mean, I went to a musical … what other culture is there? Maybe we should just see Anchorman 2. Then a mom at our daughter’s ice skating class casually mentioned that her husband had just taken her to the opera, and I thought, ha, what a dork! Then I thought, wait, that’s culture. Then I thought, crap, I am going to the opera.

Last weekend my in-laws watched the girls as my wife and I embarked on a date at Phoenix Symphony Hall to cash in her Christmas gift. I had painstakingly mapped out my route to the parking garage because I have been frequently flabbergasted by Phoenix’s random one-way street puzzle grid. (When we first moved here I tried to go to a D-backs game and one-wayed myself to Tucson. Embarrassed, I just stayed there for the weekend.)

When we received our ticket to the parking garage, the kindly worker asked where we were headed, and when I told her the opera, she said they would validate my parking ticket there. This didn’t seem to make any sense, but whatever.

I had made a dinner reservation at what I thought would be a somewhat formal restaurant befitting a pre-opera meal; however, I did not consider that the Phoenix Suns were also playing that evening, and thus our romantic table for two was surrounded mostly by men wearing ill-fitting Kevin Johnson jerseys working up a drunken lather before heading across the street.

Nevertheless, our meal was great and afterwards we ventured outside into beautiful evening weather and walked two blocks to Symphony Hall. Once in our seats, my wife said, “Should you try and validate the parking now?” I said sure, but who validates parking at the opera? It didn’t feel right.

I asked an usher, “Excuse me sir, but where can I validate my parking?” as I held my ticket in the air.

He responded, “Umm, we don’t … do that.”

I considered yelling, “WHO AT THIS OPERA CAN VALIDATE MY PARKING? I AM VERY CULTURED,” but instead sat back down, confused and dejected.

We saw La Boheme—hilarious!—and I only almost fell asleep once. Luckily there was a screen that displayed the words. Not for me—I was able to interpret the entire thing through body language and context and by whispering loudly to my Italian-speaking wife, “What is happening?”—but for everyone else. Speaking of everyone else, did you know it’s cool now to wear jeans to the opera? Some people just ain’t cultured.

Anyhoo, we very much enjoyed ourselves and, caught up in the euphoria of an actual date, even considered going out for a drink afterwards. Unfortunately, it was already almost 9:30 p.m., so … yeah.

When we were leaving the parking garage, I handed the man my parking ticket along with a ticket stub from the opera to see what would happen. What happened was that we didn’t have to pay for parking. It was the best opera ever!

Unfortunately, the Suns lost, information I gathered from sports talk radio on the way home.
Again, cultured.

Note: This column appears in the 2/13 issue of The Glendale Star and the 2/14 issue of the Peoria Times.

Monday, February 10, 2014

Facebook meme of the day






THIS DOESN'T SEEM LIKE 'HEART TOUCHING' FUN IT'S KINDA GROSS

DON'T REMEMBER THE EPISODE OF LOONEY TOONS WHERE BUGS SAID THAT

GONNA IMDB THAT JOINT YO HOLD UP ...

"MONDAYS ARE LIKE WHEN MEN EJACULATE TOO QUICKLY" - BUGS BUNNY, EPISODE 48, SEASON 6, 'ELMER TRIES TO CATCH BUGS AGAIN'

TH-TH-TH-THAT'S ALL FOLKS

HOLD UP ISN'T BUGS A DUDE

OH BUGS BUNNY IS GAY THAT'S COOL BUT EITHER WAY THIS IS NOT COOL

IS BUGS ON A BASKETBALL COURT NOT SURE WHAT IS HAPPENING

ALL THAT SAID I HEAR YA' BUGS

MONDAY IS THE WORST

I HAVE TO GO TAKE A SHOWER NOW TO WASH OUT THE MEMORIES OF THIS MEME THANKS BYE

Thursday, February 06, 2014

Spam email of the week

Subject: Are You Dead Or Alive?

NOT REALLY SURE (checks pulse, grabs crotch, slaps self in face) OH YEAH I BE LIVING

MY DEAR FRIEND,

FIRST YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I'M ALIVE NOW WE'RE DEAR FRIENDS, WTF LOL J/K HOLLA ATCHA BOY

THIS IS TO LET YOU KNOW, THAT YOUR AUTOMATED TRANSIT ACCOUNT HAS BEEN SET UP, AND YOU ARE NOW FREE TO ACCESS YOUR ACCOUNT AND MAKE TRANSFER ON YOUR OWN TO ANY BANK OF YOUR CHOICE.

OH WORD? BEEN SITTING HERE FOR A HOT MINUTE WONDERING WHEN THOSE FOOLS GONNA SET UP MY AUTOMATED TRANSIT ACCOUNT. I GOT AN ITCHY TRIGGER FINGER READY TO MAKE SOME TRANSFERS, NA MEAN PLAYA?

PLEASE FIND BELOW YOUR AUTOMATED ACCOUNT DETAILS.

STEP ON
ACCESS CODE NO: 234-1-2460000
ACCOUNT NO: 405213486
TRANSFER NUMBER: 2433400


THIS ALL MAKES SENSE. JUST PRINTED THAT SHIZZ OUT AND STEPPED ON IT AS INSTRUCTED. NOW WHAT?

STEP TWO

YOU ARE TO DIAL UP THE INTERNATIONAL ACCESS CODE NUMBER, LISTEN TO THE INSTRUCTION, FOLLOW BY YOUR ACCOUNT NUMBER, AND YOU WILL BE WELCOMED TO YOUR ACCOUNT PROPER,


THANKS MC HAMMER, THIS EMAIL IS 2 LEGIT 2 QUIT

WITH FURTHER INSTRUCTION ON HOW TO CHECK YOUR ACCOUNT BALANCE AND HOW TO MAKE TRANSFER TO ANY BANK OF YOUR CHOICE.

YO THIS SOUNDS LIKE A LOT OF STUFF TO DO. MY HOMEBOY FRED GOT A CHASE BANK ONLINE ACCOUNT AND HE BE DOING ALL THIS MESS WITHOUT ANY INSTRUCTIONS. HE DEAD THOUGH NOW. THE WAY I FOUND OUT WAS I EMAILED HIM LIKE, YO FRED YOU DEAD OR STILL ALIVE? AND HE NEVER RESPONDED. R.I.P. FRED.

YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE A TRANSFER OF MORE THAN US$30,000.00, DAILY. YOU ALSO HAVE THE OPTIONS OF CHANGING YOUR ACCOUNT DETAILS ON YOUR OWN.

THAT'S GOOD TO KNOW. YOU KNOW DAMN WELL A PLAYA LIKE ME WHO WRITES IN ALL CAPS BE TRANSFERRING MONEY AT $30K A POP ALL THE TIME, YO. AND BY THE WAY I AIN'T FEELING THAT ACCOUNT NUMBER YOU GAVE ME. TOO MANY FOURS FOR MY TASTE. GONNA CHANGE THAT ON MY OWN, SEEMS LEGIT.

I EXPECT YOU TO SHOW A SIGN OF APPRECIATION FOR ALL I DID FOR YOU, I EVEN BORROWED MONEY FROM PEOPLE TO HELP YOU.

I DON'T OWE YOU SH*T, YOU ROBINHOOD-WANNABE WEIRDO.

CONGRATULATION ONCE MORE.

THAT IS THE FIRST CONGRATULATION. BUT THANK YOU, I REALLY WORKED HARD FOR THIS AWARD.

WHILE WAITING TO HEAR FROM YOU IMMEDIATELY YOU RECEIVE THIS MAIL.

MIGHT BE THE MOST NONSENSICAL STATEMENT THAT HAS EVER EXISTED LOL SERIOUSLY THOUGH THAT WAS TERRIBLE.

YOURS SINCERELY
JOSEPH WALTER


THANKS JOE, A.K.A. HARRIS PALACIO, ACCORDING TO YOUR EMAIL. KEEP ON BEING ALIVE AND STUFF.

Tuesday, February 04, 2014

Verizon-to-(Subway-to)-Verizon minutes

This is me at Verizon, daughters in tow, trying to upgrade my phone.

Me: Girls, listen—I just have to get a new phone. Please, please, please just relax while I talk to the worker, and I promise I’ll do this as fast as I can. Then we’ll pick up the pizza, okay?

Girls: PIZZA!

Me: Shhhh! Girls, please. Just … be quiet and like, don’t move around.

Woman wearing headset and operating tablet: Mike?

Me: Yes, hi. Okay, listen—I need to do this before these two (points to girls sideways with thumb) make me lose it, so here’s the deal. I need to upgrade my phone. So let’s do that. Like now.

Verizon woman: Okay, right this way.

Me: Girls, follow me.

Girls: (spinning in circles)

Me: GIRLS.

Verizon woman: Okay, this is the iPhone 5—

Girl two: DADDY I HAVE TO GO POTTY.

Me: Are you … what? No. You just went before we left school. That was literally 10 minutes ago. No. Please wait. (turns to worker) I’m sorry, you were saying?

Verizon woman: This is the iPhone 5S … are you sure she doesn’t have to go?

Me: She’s fine.

Girl two: (hands criss-crossed over private area, knees bent) DADDY I REALLY HAVE TO GO.

Me: You've gotta be kidding me … is there a bathroom in here?

Verizon woman: Ooooh, I’m sorry, there isn’t. There’s one at Subway though, a few doors down.

Me: Okay, uh, tell me everything you were going to say really quick.

Verizon woman: Okay, you can get the iPhone 5S and it’ll only cost you $27.99 extra per month. That’s for the 16 gig. You can do the 32 gig for just four dollars more. We’re doing “The Edge” plan now—we’re phasing out the “unlimited plan” you currently have—so you can upgrade after 11 months. Unlimited text, Verizon-to-Verizon. We have black, white … what color do you like?

Me: I’m sorry, I just (inching away toward door) … have no idea what you’re saying. I have to go to Subway, I’ll be right back. Just do what you have to do. (turns to leave, looks around) Wait—where’s you sister?

voice from behind wall says “Can’t find meeeee!”

Verizon woman: Oh no, how did she get back there? She’s not allowed back there.

Me: (in stern voice through clenched teeth) Get. Out. Of. There. Now.

Girl one: (jumps through small, swinging door labeled “Employees only”) Ta-da! You couldn’t find me, right? I win!

Me: Let’s go.

(in Subway bathroom)

Me: Girls, you’re driving me crazy in there. Do you even want pizza for dinner? Because at this rate you’re not getting it.

Girl one: NOT GETTING PIZZA? (throws herself on Subway bathroom floor)

Me: Get off the bathroom floor!

Girl two: (on toilet) I don’t have to pee, dad.

Me: LET’S GO.

Get back to Verizon, monthly bill has increased by $30; girls run around my legs in circles as my contacts are transferred; I am somehow talked into getting same Bluetooth headset Verizon worker is wearing which, when I come to, I immediately return the following day during a process that takes an hour and 15 minutes (girls do NOT accompany me); first call I make on iPhone 5S is to order pizza; realize I am a sucker, but also hungry.

Note: This column appears in the 2/6 issue of The Glendale Star and the 2/7 issue of the Peoria Times.