Well, I had all these grandiose plans to write a fun little Halloween story, complete with dark and stormy nights, in honor of the holiday that I really don't like all that much on principle. That is, I like dressing up, I like the emphasis on junk food and candy, but the whole concept of Halloween is more than a little weird to me.
For example, today I went for a walk with a friend, and saw...well, you know how some houses go all out at Christmas time with decorations? Like this one house in my neighborhood when I was a kid, I mean they had the full on animatronic Winter Wonderland scene, with fake snow galore and cute woodland creatures on seesaws and swings and a 6-foot-tall Santa standing in front of their doorway waving at passersby. Ok, so this house I saw today was like the "dark side" version of the winter wonderland house. Skeletons everywhere, numerous gravestones in the driveway, a hideously disfigured body hanging from one of the trees (eew gross), a giant hairy tarantula covering their bushes, a very lifelike--or deathlike?--statue of a guy holding a knife in one hand and his own messily severed head in the other...and that's just the OUTSIDE of the house. My friend informed me that the inside is just as "festive."
All I know is, I'm glad I'm not one of their kids. I wouldn't want to come home and sleep in my own house, if I were!
But about this story I was going to write. Well. I didn't write it. However, I have the picture that was going to go with it, which I am posting here. Maybe you can make up your own story to go with it.
Take care, kids. Be safe out there. This is the frogg, heading back to Los Angeles. See you there.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Scary Stuff
I'm not a big fan of being scared.
I don't do well with scary movies, for example. I find it very hard to convince myself that "it's just a movie." Oh, I realize that it's fictional on some abstract, intellectual level. But on a heart-pounding, visceral, gut-wrenching level, it seems all too real.
I'll never forget the time I watched "Pet Cemetery." It was late at night (of course), and it was just me, my brother, his girlfriend, and my boyfriend in the house. I think I almost cried when the movie was over, and not from an overdose of sentiment. No, it was out and out terror. I made my boyfriend check every single room of the house before he left, especially under my bed and in my closet. (I would have asked my brother, but he was also terrified. He and I shared a room that night. And no, I'm not telling you how old we were.)
One time, years ago, I had to go to Knott's Scary Farm, back when I worked with the YMCA and was a volunteer youth leader for the jr. high kids. I did NOT want to go, but it was a field trip for the kids, and I had to chaperone. For those of you who have not had the dubious privilege of experiencing Knott's Scary Farm, let me just say this: if you have a heart condition, or are even remotely highly strung, you should avoid it at all costs.
It's not just the people dressed in terribly realistic costumes of werewolves, witches, and other creatures of the night, who hang out in the shadows until you walk by and then rush out at you without warning. They're scary, alright, but since you can usually spot them before they jump, run, or slide on their knees out toward you, it's harder to be caught off guard. But when you go inside the mazes--all bets are off. Take a clean pair of underwear along; trust me, you'll need it.
I was in one of the mazes with some of the other jr. high leaders, and I was clutching the backpack of one of the guys, trying to stick as close as possible to safety. The thing about the mazes is that the passages are so narrow. If something reaches out of the shadows, there really is no escape. I was also trying to walk with my eyes closed and it wasn't working too well.
Then I had the sensation of someone following close behind me. I looked over my shoulder and screamed!!! A monster! RIGHT BEHIND ME!!! I didn't stop to think, but acted swiftly. I was still holding onto my friend's backpack, so I did what any normal, red-blooded, terrified female would do--with superhuman, adrenaline-boosted strength, I swung my friend around and shoved him straight into the arms of the monster, and took off running!
Not my finest hour, I admit. But greatly amusing for everyone around me.
All this to say, Halloween is not exactly my favorite holiday. I think it's strange to "celebrate" death by dressing up as...well, a dead person or a zombie or whatever. It's ugly and scary and wrong. On the other hand, the free candy is a definite perk. If you get your hands on Bottlecaps, save me some! They're my favorite!
So, the moral of my story: have fun this Halloween, stay safe, and don't invite me to any scary movies, unless you are prepared to hold my hand and listen to my whimpering and moaning all the way through. There, you have been warned! Mmmuu-hahahahahaha!!!!
I don't do well with scary movies, for example. I find it very hard to convince myself that "it's just a movie." Oh, I realize that it's fictional on some abstract, intellectual level. But on a heart-pounding, visceral, gut-wrenching level, it seems all too real.
I'll never forget the time I watched "Pet Cemetery." It was late at night (of course), and it was just me, my brother, his girlfriend, and my boyfriend in the house. I think I almost cried when the movie was over, and not from an overdose of sentiment. No, it was out and out terror. I made my boyfriend check every single room of the house before he left, especially under my bed and in my closet. (I would have asked my brother, but he was also terrified. He and I shared a room that night. And no, I'm not telling you how old we were.)
One time, years ago, I had to go to Knott's Scary Farm, back when I worked with the YMCA and was a volunteer youth leader for the jr. high kids. I did NOT want to go, but it was a field trip for the kids, and I had to chaperone. For those of you who have not had the dubious privilege of experiencing Knott's Scary Farm, let me just say this: if you have a heart condition, or are even remotely highly strung, you should avoid it at all costs.
It's not just the people dressed in terribly realistic costumes of werewolves, witches, and other creatures of the night, who hang out in the shadows until you walk by and then rush out at you without warning. They're scary, alright, but since you can usually spot them before they jump, run, or slide on their knees out toward you, it's harder to be caught off guard. But when you go inside the mazes--all bets are off. Take a clean pair of underwear along; trust me, you'll need it.
I was in one of the mazes with some of the other jr. high leaders, and I was clutching the backpack of one of the guys, trying to stick as close as possible to safety. The thing about the mazes is that the passages are so narrow. If something reaches out of the shadows, there really is no escape. I was also trying to walk with my eyes closed and it wasn't working too well.
Then I had the sensation of someone following close behind me. I looked over my shoulder and screamed!!! A monster! RIGHT BEHIND ME!!! I didn't stop to think, but acted swiftly. I was still holding onto my friend's backpack, so I did what any normal, red-blooded, terrified female would do--with superhuman, adrenaline-boosted strength, I swung my friend around and shoved him straight into the arms of the monster, and took off running!
Not my finest hour, I admit. But greatly amusing for everyone around me.
All this to say, Halloween is not exactly my favorite holiday. I think it's strange to "celebrate" death by dressing up as...well, a dead person or a zombie or whatever. It's ugly and scary and wrong. On the other hand, the free candy is a definite perk. If you get your hands on Bottlecaps, save me some! They're my favorite!
So, the moral of my story: have fun this Halloween, stay safe, and don't invite me to any scary movies, unless you are prepared to hold my hand and listen to my whimpering and moaning all the way through. There, you have been warned! Mmmuu-hahahahahaha!!!!
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Heros and Hovercrafts
I want someone to invent the personal hovercraft car, with an autopilot switch.
The thought hit me as I was driving up to the San Francisco Bay Area from Los Angeles recently, along that long straight stretch of boredom known as I-5.
The last time I took that route, which takes about 6 hours, I was in a car with no air conditioning, making the trip in August when it is about as hot as it gets in California. I was not at all appreciative of the dry, dusty scenery, as you can imagine. This time, though, the view was beautiful, after the recent rains. The air was fresh and clear, and as afternoon wore on, golden sunlight tangled with lengthening shadows on the rolling hills and farming fields. The sight of the mountains meeting the valley as I came down over the Grapevine was particularly picturesque--grey clouds with bright white lining, and long shafts of light slanting down into the valley.
All this beauty did not make the drive any less long, however, and I began to wish that I could just program my destination into a computer system that would take over the task of driving entirely, leaving me free to relax and possibly even sleep in the back seat. You know, something like the vehicles they have in the future as projected by the movie Demolition Man.
I kind of liked Demolition Man. Well, ok, the movie was dumb, but I liked Wesley Snipes, who played the bad guy. I am not as crazy about Sylvester Stallone, who was the good guy. But I like Sly better than some of the other brawn-over-brains actors out there; for example, Jean Claude Van Damme. Did anyone else think it was weird that in Kickboxer, Jean-Claude, bless his arrogant little heart, could barely string two words together in intelligible English and yet was supposedly the brother of a guy who spoke with the most stereotypical American accents you could possibly hope to find?
Bruce Willis is another typical action-hero guy, but I like him a lot. He's hilarious. He also experienced the joys of hovercrafting, as a taxi driver of the future, in Fifth Element. For some reason I thoroughly enjoyed this movie. I can't give any good reasons for this; it's just one of those things that simply IS.
And then there is Steven Segal. He is the one I really love to hate. I think he wants to be seen as the "sensitive" type of burly muscle-hero, but all I see is a guy who can't seem to stop squinting and who talks in a perpetual whisper. He also smirks alot in what I think he hopes is an all-wise, all-knowing fashion, but which comes across, to me at least, as all-annoying.
So who does that leave us? Oh yes, good ol' Arnie Schwarzenegger. I think the Terminator was without doubt the best possible role for him. He didn't have to talk much, and when he did, it was ok for him to sound weird, because after all he was a robot; it's acceptable for them to be unemotional and monosyllabic. Unfortunately, I don't think he got to drive any hovercrafts. (He did, however, look pretty good on a Harley.)
I know what you're thinking: what does all this have to do with anything? Well.. nothing at all, really. There, do you feel better now?
The thought hit me as I was driving up to the San Francisco Bay Area from Los Angeles recently, along that long straight stretch of boredom known as I-5.
The last time I took that route, which takes about 6 hours, I was in a car with no air conditioning, making the trip in August when it is about as hot as it gets in California. I was not at all appreciative of the dry, dusty scenery, as you can imagine. This time, though, the view was beautiful, after the recent rains. The air was fresh and clear, and as afternoon wore on, golden sunlight tangled with lengthening shadows on the rolling hills and farming fields. The sight of the mountains meeting the valley as I came down over the Grapevine was particularly picturesque--grey clouds with bright white lining, and long shafts of light slanting down into the valley.
All this beauty did not make the drive any less long, however, and I began to wish that I could just program my destination into a computer system that would take over the task of driving entirely, leaving me free to relax and possibly even sleep in the back seat. You know, something like the vehicles they have in the future as projected by the movie Demolition Man.
I kind of liked Demolition Man. Well, ok, the movie was dumb, but I liked Wesley Snipes, who played the bad guy. I am not as crazy about Sylvester Stallone, who was the good guy. But I like Sly better than some of the other brawn-over-brains actors out there; for example, Jean Claude Van Damme. Did anyone else think it was weird that in Kickboxer, Jean-Claude, bless his arrogant little heart, could barely string two words together in intelligible English and yet was supposedly the brother of a guy who spoke with the most stereotypical American accents you could possibly hope to find?
Bruce Willis is another typical action-hero guy, but I like him a lot. He's hilarious. He also experienced the joys of hovercrafting, as a taxi driver of the future, in Fifth Element. For some reason I thoroughly enjoyed this movie. I can't give any good reasons for this; it's just one of those things that simply IS.
And then there is Steven Segal. He is the one I really love to hate. I think he wants to be seen as the "sensitive" type of burly muscle-hero, but all I see is a guy who can't seem to stop squinting and who talks in a perpetual whisper. He also smirks alot in what I think he hopes is an all-wise, all-knowing fashion, but which comes across, to me at least, as all-annoying.
So who does that leave us? Oh yes, good ol' Arnie Schwarzenegger. I think the Terminator was without doubt the best possible role for him. He didn't have to talk much, and when he did, it was ok for him to sound weird, because after all he was a robot; it's acceptable for them to be unemotional and monosyllabic. Unfortunately, I don't think he got to drive any hovercrafts. (He did, however, look pretty good on a Harley.)
I know what you're thinking: what does all this have to do with anything? Well.. nothing at all, really. There, do you feel better now?
Monday, October 25, 2004
Road Trip
I don't know if I've ever done a real road trip. You know, where you go with a group of friends on some wild and crazy adventure, crossing at least three states while acting out some sort of coming-of-age drama involving sex, drugs, or rock 'n' roll. (Hey, that's what Hollywood calls a road trip, and we all know that Hollywood is always right!)
No, but I have done my fair share and then some of driving in my 29 years. One time my brother and I took a trip out to Montana. We set off from Los Angeles, and drove all the way to Provo, Utah, where we spent the night with some friends who go to BYU. Somewhere in Utah I vividly remember seeing a billboard for Shasta cola (do they even MAKE Shasta anymore?) that had a bunch of huge 3-D tongues stuck all over it, all improbably colored in pink, yellow, blue and other bright, cheerful hues. Mick Jagger would've been jealous. I was amused. My brother was driving.
We stopped in Salt Lake City as well and saw City Hall. On the steps were these big bronze statues of...beehives. Beehives? Is that, like, the state mascot or something? I never did figure it out, but I noticed that beehives made an appearance on freeway signs and elsewhere. Hmmm.
I don't remember my brother and I talking much, except when we passed the Grand Tetons on our way to Yellowstone, and then we proceeded to make up an entire episode of Seinfeld which both of us still remember to this day, in which Elaine, Jerry, George, Kramer, Newman and the hyperactive Johnny Cochrane-like lawyer all made an appearance and somehow ended up in Yellowstone. I'd tell it to you, but it won't be nearly as funny in print as it is when we act out the lines. You'll just have to trust me when I say it was hilarious. Try to imagine it, you'll really laugh.
My favorite memory of Yellowstone was when my brother saw a huge female elk on the side of the road, and pulled up next to her so we could get a picture. She didn't seem too concerned, and my brother got the camera ready. Then we heard a weird noise.
Neither of us had heard an elk bugle before, so we just looked at each other. "What was that?" we both said. We heard a movement in the forest, and turned quickly to look. The sun had set and it was getting quite dark, but suddenly we saw a set of branches moving not far away. It took only a few more moments to realize that they weren't branches, but ANTLERS, and that they were coming our way at a pretty quick rate, very much attached to the huge bull elk who was apparently the female's jealous boyfriend!
"Let's get out of here!" one of us said. My brother dropped the camera as he threw the van back into gear and slammed on the accelerator. We drove off without ever getting our picture, although later, when we got everything developed from the trip, we came across a photo of the car seat, my brother's jeans and the edge of his flannel shirt (this was back when he still wore flannel). We realized he must have hit the button as he dropped the camera, so instead of getting a cool picture of an elk, we got a picture of...his jeans. Typical!
I remember on our way back from Montana, we did the whole journey without stopping to sleep. I think it was something like 20 hours or so. I drove the homestretch from Vegas to LA, leaving Vegas around midnight. I tried every trick in the book to keep me awake...rolling the window down, pinching myself, counting how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop (you think I'm joking about that last one, but I'm not). We were completely exhausted by the time we rocked up to our parents' house, somewhere in the neighborhood of 4am.
I've never forgotten that trip. I've never forgotten the little boy I saw in Wyoming, getting off of his schoolbus and making his way up the long drive to his house as he played air drums and danced like his life depended on it, utterly oblivious to anyone who might be watching. I've never forgotten the crisp cool air of Jackson Hole, where we stopped for Subway sandwiches, nor have I forgotten the eerie quietness of the land around Old Faithful, marked by rising steam and geysers, under a rich sunset and a silver moon.
Hmmm. I thought I was ready to settle down for awhile, but memories make me restless. Once you've been bitten by the travel bug, I guess you never fully recover. Here's to a lifetime journey...
"Blessed is the one...whose heart is set on pilgrimage..." Psalm 84.5b
No, but I have done my fair share and then some of driving in my 29 years. One time my brother and I took a trip out to Montana. We set off from Los Angeles, and drove all the way to Provo, Utah, where we spent the night with some friends who go to BYU. Somewhere in Utah I vividly remember seeing a billboard for Shasta cola (do they even MAKE Shasta anymore?) that had a bunch of huge 3-D tongues stuck all over it, all improbably colored in pink, yellow, blue and other bright, cheerful hues. Mick Jagger would've been jealous. I was amused. My brother was driving.
We stopped in Salt Lake City as well and saw City Hall. On the steps were these big bronze statues of...beehives. Beehives? Is that, like, the state mascot or something? I never did figure it out, but I noticed that beehives made an appearance on freeway signs and elsewhere. Hmmm.
I don't remember my brother and I talking much, except when we passed the Grand Tetons on our way to Yellowstone, and then we proceeded to make up an entire episode of Seinfeld which both of us still remember to this day, in which Elaine, Jerry, George, Kramer, Newman and the hyperactive Johnny Cochrane-like lawyer all made an appearance and somehow ended up in Yellowstone. I'd tell it to you, but it won't be nearly as funny in print as it is when we act out the lines. You'll just have to trust me when I say it was hilarious. Try to imagine it, you'll really laugh.
My favorite memory of Yellowstone was when my brother saw a huge female elk on the side of the road, and pulled up next to her so we could get a picture. She didn't seem too concerned, and my brother got the camera ready. Then we heard a weird noise.
Neither of us had heard an elk bugle before, so we just looked at each other. "What was that?" we both said. We heard a movement in the forest, and turned quickly to look. The sun had set and it was getting quite dark, but suddenly we saw a set of branches moving not far away. It took only a few more moments to realize that they weren't branches, but ANTLERS, and that they were coming our way at a pretty quick rate, very much attached to the huge bull elk who was apparently the female's jealous boyfriend!
"Let's get out of here!" one of us said. My brother dropped the camera as he threw the van back into gear and slammed on the accelerator. We drove off without ever getting our picture, although later, when we got everything developed from the trip, we came across a photo of the car seat, my brother's jeans and the edge of his flannel shirt (this was back when he still wore flannel). We realized he must have hit the button as he dropped the camera, so instead of getting a cool picture of an elk, we got a picture of...his jeans. Typical!
I remember on our way back from Montana, we did the whole journey without stopping to sleep. I think it was something like 20 hours or so. I drove the homestretch from Vegas to LA, leaving Vegas around midnight. I tried every trick in the book to keep me awake...rolling the window down, pinching myself, counting how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop (you think I'm joking about that last one, but I'm not). We were completely exhausted by the time we rocked up to our parents' house, somewhere in the neighborhood of 4am.
I've never forgotten that trip. I've never forgotten the little boy I saw in Wyoming, getting off of his schoolbus and making his way up the long drive to his house as he played air drums and danced like his life depended on it, utterly oblivious to anyone who might be watching. I've never forgotten the crisp cool air of Jackson Hole, where we stopped for Subway sandwiches, nor have I forgotten the eerie quietness of the land around Old Faithful, marked by rising steam and geysers, under a rich sunset and a silver moon.
Hmmm. I thought I was ready to settle down for awhile, but memories make me restless. Once you've been bitten by the travel bug, I guess you never fully recover. Here's to a lifetime journey...
"Blessed is the one...whose heart is set on pilgrimage..." Psalm 84.5b
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Interactive Friday
Well, here we are, the second week since I started this blog is almost finished, and I for one am having a lot of fun with it. I hope you are too!
Now I was thinking: I really like reading what you guys have to say too, but only a few of you are posting, and I just KNOW that more of you are reading these posts and you're being awfully quiet! So I've decided that Fridays are going to be Interactive Day on the frogg files. (I tried to think of a cooler name, but I couldn't really be bothered to try for very long, sorry.) This will be the day when I will ask a question, or pose a discussion topic, and you get to comment on it to your little hearts' delight. Ok?
So since we've been talking about guys and girls and RELATIONSHIP stuff, I thought I'd kick off the first Interactive Day with this question:
What's the strangest thing you've ever seen on a long road trip?
(Hey, that doesn't have ANYTHING to do with relationships! Huh. Oh well.)
Ok kids, I want to hear your stories. In the meantime, have a great weekend...this is the frogg, signing off in NorCal.
(As an alternate question to consider: if you can think of a better name than Interactive Fridays for my Friday posts, by all means post your suggestion!)
Now I was thinking: I really like reading what you guys have to say too, but only a few of you are posting, and I just KNOW that more of you are reading these posts and you're being awfully quiet! So I've decided that Fridays are going to be Interactive Day on the frogg files. (I tried to think of a cooler name, but I couldn't really be bothered to try for very long, sorry.) This will be the day when I will ask a question, or pose a discussion topic, and you get to comment on it to your little hearts' delight. Ok?
So since we've been talking about guys and girls and RELATIONSHIP stuff, I thought I'd kick off the first Interactive Day with this question:
What's the strangest thing you've ever seen on a long road trip?
(Hey, that doesn't have ANYTHING to do with relationships! Huh. Oh well.)
Ok kids, I want to hear your stories. In the meantime, have a great weekend...this is the frogg, signing off in NorCal.
(As an alternate question to consider: if you can think of a better name than Interactive Fridays for my Friday posts, by all means post your suggestion!)
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
The Game, part 1
My "Mystery of Marriage" post spawned some interesting conversations with a few friends. I was chatting with one of them on MSN soon after publishing it to this blog, and after he told me how hysterically funny it was, and how amazingly beautiful and talented I really am (ok, slight paraphrase there), he said, rather cryptically I thought, "Why don't you be more forward?"
"More forward about what?" I asked.
"About guys. If you dig a guy ask him out."
And all this time I'd thought he was sane.
"Are you NUTS?" I said. "Are you SERIOUS?"
"Yep," he said.
Riiiiiiight.
Well, I promised to give the question some careful consideration, possibly even some prayer. It always sounds good to say you are going to pray about something, very holy and spiritual. Well, there are actually a lot of people I know who WOULD pray about it if they said they were going to, and believe me when I say I wish I was a lot more like them than me. I always have good intentions to pray, I firmly believe in the importance of prayer, there are times (which lately are increasing) when I even ENJOY praying. I just kind of...forget to do it occasionally. Or often, as the case may be.
But I am digressing, which by the way is one of my many amazing talents. The point is, I didn't really give it careful thought, nor did I pray about it, because I forgot (which is probably more of a medical condition than a talent).
I'm thinking about it now, though, and here's what I've concluded. My friend is a lunatic (just kidding bees!). I mean, I'm a woman, right? I'm supposed to be mysterious and coy, right? It's my job to give off subliminal signals, and the guy's job to read them (and of course we all know how well guys do THAT) and come chasing after me. It's all part of The Game, after all.
The thing is, I'm getting really fed up with the whole idea of The Game.
In a nutshell, here's what I've learned from The Game: who I am will never be nearly as cool as whatever I project myself to be. My real self is probably pretty lame, so cover her up at all costs.
Well, doesn't that sound fun, kids. Who's up for Monopoly? At least those rules make sense!
I just want to know: Is it possible to not play The Game...and still win?
"More forward about what?" I asked.
"About guys. If you dig a guy ask him out."
And all this time I'd thought he was sane.
"Are you NUTS?" I said. "Are you SERIOUS?"
"Yep," he said.
Riiiiiiight.
Well, I promised to give the question some careful consideration, possibly even some prayer. It always sounds good to say you are going to pray about something, very holy and spiritual. Well, there are actually a lot of people I know who WOULD pray about it if they said they were going to, and believe me when I say I wish I was a lot more like them than me. I always have good intentions to pray, I firmly believe in the importance of prayer, there are times (which lately are increasing) when I even ENJOY praying. I just kind of...forget to do it occasionally. Or often, as the case may be.
But I am digressing, which by the way is one of my many amazing talents. The point is, I didn't really give it careful thought, nor did I pray about it, because I forgot (which is probably more of a medical condition than a talent).
I'm thinking about it now, though, and here's what I've concluded. My friend is a lunatic (just kidding bees!). I mean, I'm a woman, right? I'm supposed to be mysterious and coy, right? It's my job to give off subliminal signals, and the guy's job to read them (and of course we all know how well guys do THAT) and come chasing after me. It's all part of The Game, after all.
The thing is, I'm getting really fed up with the whole idea of The Game.
In a nutshell, here's what I've learned from The Game: who I am will never be nearly as cool as whatever I project myself to be. My real self is probably pretty lame, so cover her up at all costs.
Well, doesn't that sound fun, kids. Who's up for Monopoly? At least those rules make sense!
I just want to know: Is it possible to not play The Game...and still win?
Ring, Ring
So I'm curious: am I the only person in the twenty-first century who, when a phone rings doesn't feel the slightest obligation to answer it? Who is fine with just...letting it ring?
I've never been much of a phone person. When I was growing up, the calls were never for me. Since I HAVE grown up (ha!) I find that nothing much has changed. Now I get fond, loving calls from concerned telemarketers who, even though they don't even know me, want to make sure I know about the latest in carpet cleaning supplies, because my life will be truly incomplete if I don't buy this amazing product that I don't know how I managed to live without before I heard about it.
I don't like to brag, but I even got a call from Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger the other day. Apparently he doesn't have enough to do with untangling the California economy, so he is making up for it by recording phone messages for likely voters. Unfortunately, I thought he was a telemarketer and hung up on him.
For any telemarketers who might by some chance be reading this: I'm sorry. You have a crappy job. I really hope that you get at least one nice person every day who will listen to your spiel and not hang up on you, because wow, how depressing it must be to hear a click every time you start talking to someone. But honestly, why, WHY do you call at 9pm? Or in the middle of dinner? Or...well, why do you call? I hate to say this, but no one I know likes to receive telemarketing calls! I mean, do YOU even like it?
Every now and then, I break my policy and I will answer the phone when it rings. When I pick it up, and there is a little pause before the person answers my pleasant greeting, I know I'm in for it. I do try to be polite, but it's hard when they don't let you get a word in edgewise, like the guy who called me from Discover card the other day to inform me that they were going to send me information about some credit protection plan that I don't want. It's a 30-day free trial, he said, after which I will start to be charged for it. Only he said that in about two minutes, with a lot of other stuff that I couldn't understand because he was talking so fast. As soon as he took a breath, I said (politely I thought) "I don't want it," and he said emphatically over the next 2 minutes that I needed to have all the materials to make an informed decision--so he was sending it to me anyway. I think I'll cancel my Discover card. Good work, Mr Telemarketing Guy.
As I've been writing this for the past 15-20 minutes, I've heard the phone ring about five times. Well, I am home, but I am not answering. You can call, but you won't talk to me! I am beyond the reach of your feeble attempts to communicate with me! I HAVE DEFEATED YOU! Hahahahahahaha!!!!
Ahem. Sorry.
I'm, uh, going to go do some work now.
I've never been much of a phone person. When I was growing up, the calls were never for me. Since I HAVE grown up (ha!) I find that nothing much has changed. Now I get fond, loving calls from concerned telemarketers who, even though they don't even know me, want to make sure I know about the latest in carpet cleaning supplies, because my life will be truly incomplete if I don't buy this amazing product that I don't know how I managed to live without before I heard about it.
I don't like to brag, but I even got a call from Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger the other day. Apparently he doesn't have enough to do with untangling the California economy, so he is making up for it by recording phone messages for likely voters. Unfortunately, I thought he was a telemarketer and hung up on him.
For any telemarketers who might by some chance be reading this: I'm sorry. You have a crappy job. I really hope that you get at least one nice person every day who will listen to your spiel and not hang up on you, because wow, how depressing it must be to hear a click every time you start talking to someone. But honestly, why, WHY do you call at 9pm? Or in the middle of dinner? Or...well, why do you call? I hate to say this, but no one I know likes to receive telemarketing calls! I mean, do YOU even like it?
Every now and then, I break my policy and I will answer the phone when it rings. When I pick it up, and there is a little pause before the person answers my pleasant greeting, I know I'm in for it. I do try to be polite, but it's hard when they don't let you get a word in edgewise, like the guy who called me from Discover card the other day to inform me that they were going to send me information about some credit protection plan that I don't want. It's a 30-day free trial, he said, after which I will start to be charged for it. Only he said that in about two minutes, with a lot of other stuff that I couldn't understand because he was talking so fast. As soon as he took a breath, I said (politely I thought) "I don't want it," and he said emphatically over the next 2 minutes that I needed to have all the materials to make an informed decision--so he was sending it to me anyway. I think I'll cancel my Discover card. Good work, Mr Telemarketing Guy.
As I've been writing this for the past 15-20 minutes, I've heard the phone ring about five times. Well, I am home, but I am not answering. You can call, but you won't talk to me! I am beyond the reach of your feeble attempts to communicate with me! I HAVE DEFEATED YOU! Hahahahahahaha!!!!
Ahem. Sorry.
I'm, uh, going to go do some work now.
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