Good tidings from Wisconsin

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REALLY stupid things that bug the crap out of me.

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You know what really grinds my gears? Well, I'll tell you: 1) Automated phone calls that make you press numbers. Now, the phone call itself isn't what bugs me. I don't mind not having to talk to a real person. (That sounds weird...) I hate it when they say this: "If this is correct, PRESS 1. If this is incorrect, PRESS 3." Now, sometimes I'm in a hurry, and I don't like to listen to the robot all the way to the end. So I assume, as lots of normal people do, that in a natural succession of numbers, if you want to say no, and pressing 1 means yes, you'd press 2. But then when I press 2, it gives me the whole "That response does not exist" shpeel, thus prolonging my time on the phone, renewing my prescriptions, when I pressed 2 to speed things up in the first place. WHAT HAPPENED TO 2????? 2) Elevator buttons. Specifically, elevator buttons that look like this: What genius  came up with THIS setup??? My eyeballs are going to go d...
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A Cornucopia of Matters...NSFC! (Not safe for CHILDREN!)

I swear. I know I may not be the best at grammar, or English, or writing, or speaking, or anything , really, but I do appreciate the honest attempt to write, speak or ... I don't know, burp the English language. (I'm sure I'd appreciate the honest attempt to write, speak or burp other languages, but I'm not fluent in any other, so alas, I must stick with English. Curse my unilinguity. I made up a word. Unilinguity. Uni-linguity?) The review for Spelling Bee was in the school newspaper this week. It was terrible . To say the least. I think I wrote better pieces of literature when I was in middle school. I mean, if we all thought that the man who writes for the local newspaper, a former sports columnist, was bad, this reviewer just came bounding and leaping ahead of him and took first prize in the Really Crappy Composition Contest . (See what I did with the alliteration there? Clever.) Not only was it a summary of the plot, a really horribly, criminally vomitous summary...
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More than you probably really wanted to know about my Christmas.

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