Anyway, feel free to take a look and drop them a letter of your own. Here’s all the contact information from their website. There are several names listed there. I suggest copying all of them. As far as I’m concerned, even their water delivery guy holds some of the responsibility. And someone needs to pay … or at least freakin’ apologize. Am I right?
I tried so many times to contact you last January regarding the whole Trojan-commercial-during-The-Polar-Express-the-day-after-Christmas debacle. I sent three separate emails, I tweeted you and I even called and spoke with a live person … who said your organization would be getting back to me shortly. That lip service proved merely to be a means of getting me off the phone because NOTHING EVER HAPPENED.
If someone wasn’t fired over the initial VIBRATOR AD DURING A CHILDREN’S CHRISTMAS MOVIE decision, then here’s another chance for you to thin your herd.
And I want to let you know that I keep a blog about such things. All of my letters to you are included there.
So, why am I suddenly writing to you again? Because I wrote another letter to a different company today and, within less than twenty-four hours, I received a personalized email, a phone call and then even a visit to my home by one of their local representatives to “make things right” as they say. They should serve as your example. And please know that I didn’t miss the opportunity in this new post to state yet again that you ignored all of my attempts to contact you … http://wp.me/p1LoLK-1E1
AMC should take a lesson from Kleinpeter Dairy. I am painfully disappointed that you elected to sweep me under the proverbial rug. And I have a big mouth.
With their obsession of all things three, the Trifecta overlords pulled out all the stops for their 33rd writing challenge, creating a triathlon of sorts for nerds like me. There are three parts to the challenge and the top three winners of each go on to compete in some kind of Super Bowl … or Olympics … or … oh, whatever. You guys know I don’t know about this stuff.
Plus I only managed to participate in one of the three legs:
Write a 33-333 word response using the 3rd definition of the following word:
Sorry, Trifecta. I wish your three-a-palooza didn’t fall during the summer when time is in such short supply. I always love playing and am glad that, with this entry, I at least have a chance of securing one of the nine spots that advance to the swimsuit … the interview … Round Two.
If I win, there’ll be three-bean salad and Three Musketeer bars for everyone!
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He waited, crouched behind a dumpster in the alley. The only light came from a street lamp that illuminated the backdoor to the building. Even the moon seemed to be cooperating as it hid behind a mass of clouds directly above him. He dared not make a move for fear of revealing himself. One inch here or there could cast a shadow. His stomach growled and he cursed himself for skipping dinner. He considered the granola bar in his pocket but dismissed it, realizing the crinkling plastic would be too great a risk. And he needed to stay focused.
The alley was only 33 feet long. He’d have to act quickly to execute his plan completely within its boundaries. He’d planned everything to the second and had even run a few drills in the dark over the last month. His only concern was noise. So he needed to be sure the first thing he took out was the windpipe. He couldn’t afford even a fraction of a distress call. The offices on the 2nd floor always kept their windows open and the after hours cleaning crew would surely hear any screaming.
“How can they stand to keep them open?” he wondered. The rancid smell of the alley was nauseating. He shuddered when what he hoped was a cat ran across his feet. He chose not to look down but to keep his gaze fixed on the door. The firm had been closed for three hours. He should have come out by now.
Why must he always make things so difficult?
He felt a breeze blow past him. Fall was coming. The holidays. He couldn’t let her endure another Christmas, another new year with him. “She wants this,” he reasoned to himself. “She practically came out and asked me to do it.”
Tonight, he would even the score for her. Tonight, he would set her free.
With tears in his eyes, he gripped the rope tightly as he watched the backdoor slowly swing open.
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The Inspiration for this Entry
I read an old favorite with my son not too long ago. Edgar Allen Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart. Of course, for my boy, it was the first reading. And he marveled at how crazed the narrator sounded, how meticulously he planned every detail and how he perceived his own actions to be fully justified and rational. Three hundred thirty-three words isn’t much with which to work when attempting to model anything after the great EAP, but I hope I captured at least a fraction of the character’s frenetic thought process.
My friend, Mel, wrote something a while back about when her kids called her out on her very unkempt “pursekeeping.” Her humbling experience is what prompted me to write today’s post.
For the record, I am not at all a purse person. I carry one only because I need the stuff inside and want to have my hands free in the event of a spill or other act of spazzery. (It happens.) I do not have an assortment of bags of differing colors, fabrics, seasons and strap lengths in my closet to coordinate with every outfit. I truly loathe the chore of changing purses.
My system is simple. I have a larger, casual purse that is used approximately 360 days of the year and a smaller, dressy one that serves the remaining 5. (Leap years have been known to throw off this system.) Both models are solid black and together they cover all occasions for me. In some ways, I am very girly but, in others, I come pretty close to crossing that all-too-important line of demarcation. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t plan on standing up when I pee anytime soon. I love highlighting my hair, painting my nails and wearing strappy sandals far too much for that. But I can also be pretty no-nonsense about a lot of things, especially when it comes to purses.
Someone once said my purse resembled a European man bag. I just smiled and said thank you.
Anyway, back to Mel. When her kids called her out on her slovenly pursekeeping, the first thing she did was to dump it all out, take a full inventory of everything inside and then post it on the internet for all to see. Sure, it’s weird. And that’s why I loved it … and am now following her lead. Of course, I did it thinking … “Mel’s kids are way younger than mine. Juice boxes, character bandaids … I’m way past that stage. My purse shouldn’t be that bad.”
Somebody cover me. I’m going in …
After I regained my footing from the painful fall off my high horse, I created my own list. Honestly, at any given time, you could probably put together a collage of where I’ve spent my last year (ahem … or two) based on the receipts, ticket stubs, business cards and other crazy remnants of my bag.
Here’s what I found:
1 wallet (I hate the oversized behemoth I bought when the awesome one my boy gave me finally succumbed.)
1 travel-sized Advil bottle (Should I worry that the pills inside don’t all look the same?)
1 miniature plastic pink hairbrush (I’m pretty sure I “appropriated” it from my daughter.)
1 small packet of Listerine breath strips (In a pinch, they can actually be used as bribes for my kids. Sad, huh?)
1 completely empty bottle of breath spray (‘Cause you never know when …. Fine, I’ll throw it out.)
1 checkbook (Sure, it’s old school. But it still gets a lot of mileage.)
1 surprisingly powerful pocket flash light (Great for when things drop in jet black movie theaters. Except food.)
2 pairs of ear plugs (I wish I’d remembered these were in here. Oh, the crap I could have blocked out.)
5 “lady products” (Two needed to hit the trash immediately. I wouldn’t use them to plug a drain. Shudder.)
1 unopened pack of Tums (I bought it during a particularly bad bout of “sea sickness” on a cruise last summer.)
1 pair of clip-on peace sign earrings (My girl got her ears pieced last fall so these have been in here a while.)
1 loose key (It might be for the exercise room at our pool club. The fact that it’s a mystery explains a lot.)
1 Chronicles of Narnia chapstick (Yes, the theme makes it OLD, but I knew it was there & use it all the time.)
1 handy carrying case of assorted gift cards (I probably shouldn’t be toting these around in my purse.)
1 black scrunchy (Don’t judge. I use these tacky “fashion don’ts” all the time. Actually, I’m sporting one now.)
1 foil-wrapped wad of chewed gum (Let he who is without a chewed gum wad cast the first stone! Or gum wad.)
1 single Mickey Mouse earring (I need to go sneak it into my girl’s room so she thinks she had it all along.)
1 barrette (I’ll put it by the earring and say “See, I TOLD you I didn’t have it. Take some responsibility!”)
3 perfume sample vials (Chanel, Jo Malone & a mystery vial – I live in the sweaty, humid South.)
2 pens (The number varies but their source remains a mystery. I never buy pens. They just show up.)
1 black hair clip (Again, I live in the South and you never know when a sudden messy updo will be necessary.)
3 nail files (One was a giveaway I got at a Katy Perry concert for Fox TV’s I Hate my Teenage Daughter.’ Ironic.)
1 Key ring (We’ll delve deeper into this one in its own post.)
1 pair of cheap sunglasses (I keep a whole arsenal of these cheap frames at the ready for when one breaks.)
3 casino cards (This makes me sound like a gambler. I’m so not.)
1 arcade card (From my Disney trip last February. Trash.)
1 policeman’s business card (From an out-of-town traffic accident last summer. Not my fault. Trash.)
2 old receipts (Only two? Well, THAT’S a banner day!)
1 Rolling Video Games of NOLA business card (I’m never renting the ‘mobile game RV’ for a party. Trash.)
1 old check register (This should probably be stored somewhere besides my purse, yes?)
1 lipstick (Very effective bribe for my girl. Not as effective with the boy. That’s probably a good thing.)
1 compact (See perfume samples & hair clip above. Sweaty summers necessitate a means of de-shining.)
1 sparkly silver eyeliner (I so wish I could blame this on my girl. But it’s mine. All mine.)
No, no, no. I did NOT forget about the Jud & Bill Contest. It’s summer so my kids are home 24/7 … and they’re tearing through laundry, food, dishes, my money, my last nerves and hours of my time like Kleenex around here. Plus … have you read these entries? They are so freakin’ good with so much creativity and research put into each one of them that there is NO WAY I could pick a winner myself.
Are you really surprised by this next development?
We’re putting it up for a vote. I’m giving everyone a whole week … because we are ALL busy people … to take a look at the submissions and then vote for the one you think best represents Episode 11. Feel free to elaborate in the comments below their entries or this post as I know the writers would love to hear from you.
Want to catch up on the storyline before reading the entries and voting? Click here for episodes 1-10.
Here are the entries for your voting consideration:
Please take a minute to read ALL of the above before voting. You might want to eat a Saltine or Melba Toast cracker between reading each entry to cleanse your palate properly. Or, better yet, perhaps you could check out the dental blog of my first hate mail – I mean – my old friend to clear your brain between each example of the fine dumbassery exhibited here in these entries today.
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I couldn’t get the stupid poll to center on the page. So … to overcompensate for my computer illiteracy AND to pay homage to the two heroes that inspired this whole contest … I elected to use the cheesiest poll theme offered in WordPress for our post today. Enjoy!
No, it’s not from Jud and Bill … MORE ON THAT CONTEST SOON, BY THE WAY … but I did get another misdirected email recently. Remember my plan to rid this world of this electronic idiocy? Every time I get something good sent to me by mistake, I’m sharing it. Right here. In a segment called Check Your Email, Dude (CYED).
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Today’s installment of CYED comes to us from Carol in Michigan. She was writing to her friend, Joanie, to get her okay on an invitation to a baby shower for Kim before she printed it. And I feel kinda bad because the big day is only a week off. I really hope I didn’t impede the party planning by holding up the invitations. By now, the party givers should be pricing balloons and pink and blue tableware … and buying a Vlasic pickle stork replica to put on the lawn … and stuffing baby bottles favors with pastel pillow mints … and the games. Oh, DEAR GOD, the games!
Man, Kim’s shower’s gonna suck.
Maybe I should just send a quick email saying that the invitation looks fine so they can get moving on the other stuff. Although, it looks pretty boy-centric to me. I wonder if Kim even knows what she’s having. Her stupid friends probably didn’t even take that into account. Also, I know it’s the Walt Disney font and all, but I HATE the lettering. Kim’s got a mouthful of a last name (which I deleted because I’m awesome) and it’s barely legible in this freakish font. Personally, I would never do that to Kim. But it’s not like any of them asked ME to co-host her shower. Hags.
Anyway, here’s the email. Judge for yourself.
[ Baby Shower Invitation Proof ]
I’ve attached the proof for your invitations. Please look it over and make sure everything is correct.
So, what do y’all think I should get her? There is NO way I’m going to Babies R Us or Walmart. I have an unopened Scrabble game around here somewhere. And an extra cat collar with painted fish on it. Ooh, and a pair of white sandals that I only wore once then decided they didn’t fit. I still have the box and everything.
Damn! I have to get moving. I wonder what the airfare to Michigan will run me.
Trifextra gave us a fun assignment this weekend. Retell your favorite book in 33 words. And really the hardest part for me was picking a favorite book. Considering what an illiterate boob I am, I sure had a lot of ideas swimming around in my flabby brain. Until I settled on this one (written by a little-known actor at the time) that was later developed into a movie. It’s definitely a favorite around this house, which probably makes us a family of freaks. Although I’m not sure we can really blame that on the story.
* Spoiler Alert – I tell the whole story here. Don’t read it if you don’t want to know.
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Man is released from asylum. Man meets boy. Man eats french fried potaters. Boy introduces man to mother and her gay friend. Man meets mother’s jackass boyfriend. Man bisects jackass with sling blade.
Here’s my entry. It may suck, but it was fun nonetheless. Also, I did some searching on the internet. I found out some info about their emails while trying to figure out what I wanted to write. Then went a completely different way. Go figure. Here’s the answer to some burning questions.
“The Southern California Collegiate Baseball League beat the All-Stars from The Orange County Collegiate League on Saturday, 3-2, in walk-off fashion from a solo home run from Ryan Jones (Palm Springs POWER) in the bottom of the tenth inning….”
Figured you appreciate that since you have your own cow named after you. :)
I think someone has been intercepting our emails. My guess is Mrs. Bossy Pants and Jean are in cahoots. They probably found out about each other. Jean set up my email account, and has my password. Maybe I should call her Mrs. Nosey Pants. (Smile) They would be ticked if they knew about Michele. (Swoon) She’s the one that really gets me. Did you know that she brings $5 on dollar beer night at the ballpark? She also stuffs her bag full of cheese for us to snack on. Looks like I’m going to have to change my internet or email address or something before Mrs. Bossy Pants or Mrs. Nosey Pants blow my cover. Maybe I can get Michele to help me. She knows how that internet thing works. By the way, the our guys won the game 3-2 in the tenth inning. Talk to you tomorrow.