Google is God

http://www.thechurchofgoogle.org/Scripture/Proof_Google_Is_God.html

’nuff said.

(via Unreasonable Faith )

Blog Changes

Alright, so I changed the theme. Enabled threaded comments (even though we aren’t commented on enough for that.) And… that’s about it. Maybe we should actually blog about thingies. Meh, whatever.

Also, does anyone know how to use OpenID? I seem to be lost.

My Mother: Staples’ Worst Enemy

Well, I’m back with another riveting tale for all of you.

Once upon a time, there was a father and his two dear sons. They lived in harmony upstairs. They were conoisseurs of awesome office products. They each had a Scotch tape dispenser. One day, the eldest son’s dispenser vanished.

It became obvious that its disappearance could only be attributed to one person – MOTHER. The horrible creature that lived downstairs. They dared not trifle with her lest she go on a one hour tangent and permanently shorten everybody’s life expectancy.

The son took up a perilous journey into the realm known as “downstairs”, a frigid icy wasteland where mother had deemed heating to be stupid and wasteful of money, even though she did not pay it. Entering into an uneasy negotiation with his mother, the son was granted access to her room where he found a tape dispenser. The mother claimed that it “was always here” and that “[your father] gave it to me”. She claimed, however, there may be a second one around and she’d look for it.

It was obvious that she was lying, but the son was not in the mood to fight so he returned to his domain, informing the father of the vile witch’s treachery. The father decided to confront his “wife” about the matter. After pointing out that she had stolen the tape dispenser, but remaining calm and even offering to buy her one of her own, all hell broke loose.

The father retreated upstairs as the mother went on a tangent, spewing lies out of her mouth such as “you fucking bastard, you owe me thousands and all you can think about is fucking $12?”. She began to point out how “[my father] has nothing” and how he’s “a bum” who mooches money and is a cheater. You could spend 10 seconds in my hosue and it’d be obvious that this is the exact opposite of the situation.

So, my dad was just ASKING IF HE COULD HAVE A TAPE DISPENSER BACK and mom started threatening to “call the police” and that my dad would be “thrown out on the street” once I go to college. She would “move back to [her] country” and live a happy life. My mother hails from one of the most technologically backwards and downright communistic shitholes home to nothing but lowly backwater farmers and humble peasants.

It’s times like these I wish my mom wasn’t just a walking vessel for harsh language, because sometimes I wish she’d call the police so that they would arrest her for being legally insane. Did I tell you about the shoddy space heater that nearly burned down the house?

Sigh. All this over a fucking tape dispenser. I wouldn’t mind if she was complaining about the tape dispenser, but she was just calling my father all kinds of bad words and going completely off-topic.

As you may have noticed by now, I’m very defensive of my father. He’s one of the greatest people I know and, if not for his positive influence and protection, I would be just as stupid as the woman in the preceding paragraphs. But calling my father a “bastard”, a “bum”, threatening to throw him “out on the street”, it’s just stupid. I hate incompetent people. Especially ones who can’t defend themselves so start talking about random stuff instead.

Kind of like most politicians…

My Mother: The Epitome of Failure

I can’t stand my mother. I was never able to but now I’m practically ready to kill her. She’s just so conceited and greedy. Did I mention she’s a communist? Yeah, lots of foreign-born mothers are, but mine is genuinely communist. And I don’t mean communist in the way you regard Trizy or your Russian co-workers. I’m talking much worse.

I could write an entire book about how terrible my mother is, but I won’t. Deep down I really want her to someday escape from that bubble world of hers and realize just what a failure she is and how she has done nothing but ruin my life and push my family to the brink of destruction. Instead, I’m just going to touch on a few points that I particularly dislike about her. This is not a dramatization, this is all completely true. The following list is not for the faint-of-heart. Expect words with more than three syllables and lots of cursing. Some of you may void your bowels once you come to the horrible revelation that a person in real-life can actually be JUST this terrible. I’m sorry, I voided mine too.

Barnes & Noble Customer-Relations–Disaster Cashier

I have to say that I once liked Barnes & Nobles. Mostly because it was my first bookstore; partly because of its cool name.

Unfortunately times change, and cashiers alienate customers.

Asking if a store accepts a competitor’s coupon is a perfectly valid question that does not warrant a rude, “What do you think?” with full superiority complex tone. Linen & Things accepted Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons. Chef Central accepts Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons; even though they aren’t in direct competition.

But for fuck’s sake that ass of a cashier could have phrased it better like a polite, “I’m sorry, we don’t accept competitor’s coupons.” Hell he could have at least hid the blatantly obvious, “Are you  fucking stupid?” behind in his tone.

And hell I think he was being a fucking racist, because apparently using English correctly is the only measure of intelligence for the whole damned known world.

Well I have one thing to say to that: FUCK YOU!

Fuck your self-centered narcissistic superiority complex. Fuck your alienation of a returning customer. Fuck your attitude. And fuck your employer and franchise.

Hatred and spite make humans do illogical things. And you, asshole cashier, should learn that.

On a lighter note: The cashier at the Starbucks from whom I brought my coffee from was pleasant and funny (inside the Barnes & Noble, before got the book). She had forgotten about the discount I get from using a Starbucks tumbler and promptly included it after I inquired. Apparently it had the first time she had used such a discount, and she had been working there for two years. That’s how you handle customer relations.

Borders, consider me your bitch. You may not have Starbucks, but at least you don’t have patronising racist narcissists.