24 November 2007



21 November 2007

UPS=Urinal-Poop Service

Holy damn and hell do I hate UPS. I hate UPS so bad I might staple my nut sack to my face so I don't have to look at my tracking page any longer. For those of you not personally acquainted with me or have no reason to hate UPS, here is how they left something else big and brown, besides a truck, in my life:

On November 12th, I decided it was finally time to buy a Chumby. You know, that cute internet TV device that everyone should be talking about. I forked over my ~$180.00 and started waiting... and waiting... and waiting. By the 16th (when it originally should have been delivered), I checked the tracking page and nearly had a coronary. My Chumby had made two fucking trips across the Pacific Ocean. Two. Not one. Two.

At that point, it was in Kentucky. Kentucky would now become the primary place of residence for my computer-in-a-laundry-bag. By the end of that day, it had finally made a trip to Salt Lake City. I thought my worries were over. Then it went back to Kentucky.

I gave UPS's Kentuckites the benefit of the doubt. "It must have been a logistic error in customs. I'll bet it hasn't left yet." On the nineteenth, it got an arrival scan in Salt Lake City. I was relieved that I would receive my Chumby soon.

Then it went back to Ken-fuck-me again.

It went back to Salt Lake.

It went to Kentucky to get it's snow-plow on again. (Four (4) times, for those not counting.)

Needless to say, I was so pissed I started urinating all over my desk and everything around me in a ferocious rage. I was screaming shit like, "QUIT PLAYING LONG-DISTANCE KEEP-AWAY WITH MY CHUMBY! YOU ASS HOLES!" It was a titanic mess.

After being released from police custody for assaulting a tree with a golf club (the tree dropped the charges), I called up UPS to see why they wouldn't give me my damn toy. The representative assured me, "I am pleased to inform you, Mr. Alex, that your package has not been lost."

That is verbatim what they said. Mister Alex. That would have pissed me off, but I like the sound of Mister Alex. It's an excellent porno-actor or else pro-wrestler name. But, that's beside the point. I explained that I would not go to Kentucky once, let alone four times, but they seemed unsympathetic. They told me to call them back once it said "ARRIVAL SCAN" at Kentucky so they could catch it and put it on a truck to my house instead of, you know, Vancouver.

So, distraught, I called up the people at Chumby. I spoke with a very helpful gentleman (who, unfortunately, did not address me as Mr. Alex) who said that he would put a trace on my package so they could file a claim once my Chumby was in Fiji and get me a new, less cosmopolitan Chumby.

UPS comes to your house and shits all over your expectations when you ask for that thing that you ordered.

Don't believe me? Well here's a link to my package's tracking page.



I have to wonder what else is missing/illegible/eaten/exploded.

Update #2:

Chumby has arrived in all of its Chumbalicious glory. The Kentuckites treated it quite well, not a cut, scratch or scrape on its soft exterior. In a way I am surprised that my Chumby wasn't on fire when it arrived. Pleasantly surprised. However, under the circumstances, I still have to recommend UPS as a parcel service if you feel the need for some shit to go down in your life.

The Chumby itself? It's amazing. If you are a geek or even half a geek, you need to own one. It is just such a neat little gimmick that can occasionally be used for practical purposes, that you can't avoid touching it, shaking it or doing other unspeakable things to its plush exterior. I will try and cobble together a complete review on it, but one can already guess the outcome:


02 November 2007

Separated at Birth?

Happy Halloween, mother fuckers.

01 November 2007

Observation #1

I enjoy Tecate because:

1. It's the only decent thing that comes in a 6-ring anymore and I fucking hate seals.
2. It looks like I'm drinking a can of Coca-Cola from a distance.
3. It's in, like, every grocery store on the face of the Earth.
4. You can make fun of wealthy Corona n00bs.
5. It's the only thing that says "Hencho en Mexico" that probably wasn't produced in a sweat shop.


If Depeche Mode was from Mexico, they would probably drink it too, since Depeche Mode is so god damn awesome that nobody likes them because they are so jealous of how fucking incredible Depeche Mode is.

Non-sequitur post brought to you by the Advocates for Tasty-Beverage Council.