Poorest Nation, Eh?

I think we may be getting scammed by all this "Haitian relief" business. The following ad is as it appears all around the interwebiary.

The children are not only carrying substantial amounts of gold, they are flashing it around like a rap video. Sure, I've seen all the video on the news of the suffering of the Haitian people, but with that kind of bank, I'd imagine it'd be pretty easy to fake.

Either that, or the people of Haiti haven't figured out that they can trade all that gold for goods and services. Who's the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere now? (I'm looking at you Canada)

In all reality, if you do want to give, HERE is a link to Matthew 25 Ministries. They are one of many great organizations with efforts to help Haiti in its time of need.

Thanks to Shawn for sending me the ad.

All The Single Ladies

Dear ladies,
I understand that when you go out to the bar or club you want to look nice and try to find you a fella (perhaps you just want to feel pretty). However, as the temperatures go near and below freezing, bundle up a bit. Wear a jacket. Find yourself a nice outfit with sleeves and pant legs. You don't always have to slut it up. As a once single man myself, I can guarantee that the guys will still find you attractive. What they won't find attractive is your stump, after your frostbitten leg has been amputated. Well most of them anyway, some people may be into stumps.

Take care of yourselves, ladies. I worry.

Sincerely,
Devil's Wind

J. Thomas Is A Dick Head Meter Maid.

So, yesterday was New Years Eve. I got up early, despite not feeling top notch, because I wanted to accompany the Bride-to-Be to an appointment with a wedding photographer. So we pull up in front of his building. I proceeded to place an American twenty five cent piece in the meter for our space. But alas, it changed nothing. That's right my friends. My quarter bought us no time, so we proceeded inside, assuming the meter was broken.

Fast forward to 45 minutes later.

B2B and I are exiting the photographer's office to find the meter maid (he's a man named J. Thomas, but attacking his masculinity consoles me) typing in a ticket. I yell from the steps, "Hold on! That meter is not working." His response? "It's flashing red. That means it's expired."

Me: Yes! But I put a quarter in and nothing happened.

Dick head meter maid: mmm hmmm. (uninterested in my protest)

Me: Yeah. Here let me show you.

So I pulled some change from my pocket and proceeded to put a nickel in the meter. Sure as hell, five minutes popped up.

DHMM: Seems to be working fine.

Me: Well, it didn't just before nine.

DHMM: (while now printing the ticket) I can't help you. You can call the number on the top and tell them your story.

Me: I will.

DHMM: Here.

Me: Great. You're awesome. (Then under my breath as he walked off) Dick head meter maid.

So I called the number. Talked to a very nice lady named Sharon. She told me to write what happed on the ticket, mail it in, and they'd look into the matter.

But I would like to reiterate that J. Thomas is a dick head meter maid.

I told you that to tell you this.

Later that day, B2B and I were at Kroger. As we left I noticed this.

That's right! Friggin' fake mustaches for a mere fifty cents. But looking into my pocket contents, guess what I found. Only one quarter, because I wasted my other one on a Cincinnati parking meter that didnt' work. Which would have been fine, except the dick head meter made, J. Thomas, still gave me a ticket. So I got a ticket and did not have the funds for a fake mustache.

I hope for better in 2010 (but not for J. Thomas: Dick Head Meter Maid).