Review: Dragonfruit

Imagine that one lovely morning, you get on a plane and travel to Thailand. You get off the plane, wander into the street, and decide to celebrate your arrival by trying some kind of new, exotic foods. You go up to a stall, and the guy sells you a beautiful pink fruit that looks like it's straight out of National Geographic. The guy tells you that this is a dragonfruit. This makes sense, since the outside has all these petal-flap-thingies that look kinda like dragon scales when you squint.

You sit down on the curb and break open the dragonfruit with a knife. I don't know where you got the knife. Maybe you stole it out of a suitcase at the baggage claim. Maybe you are Edward Scissorhands. Maybe you are a cyborg and used your laser-vision to slice it open.

Whatever method, you get the damn thing open. You look inside, and... HORROR MOVIE MUSIC!!!!!!!

What. The. Hell. Is. This.

This fruit is like one of those kitschy pictures of the fruits that look like other fruits on the inside, like on the outside it looks like an orange but it's sliced in half and they doctored the picture to look like a kiwi on the inside.

You see how this is a tomato on the outside but a kiwi on the inside? That kind of thing.

You feel like Alice in Wonderland. Except you're in Thailand, so it's more like Alice in Thailand. Do they even have dragonfruit in Thailand? I might have made that up.

But for real, this fruit/abomination hybrid proves that there is no God. Or if there is, then He is one sick, messed-up individual. You need help, God. From a professional.

Review: Targeted Marketing

I hate targeted marketing. For those not in the know, targeted marketing is when ads pop up on the sides of websites that are supposed to be geared specifically towards you/your demographic. Like when you search for porn on the internet, you never see ads for Verizon or Subway or 2 for 1 mattresses at the Mattress Man (if that's even a thing). Or when you go on facebook, and all the ads on the side are for things like shoes and makeup, because OBVIOUSLY if you are a girl between the age of 0-103, all you want are shoes and makeup. Not that I don't like makeup or shoes, but how many different black eyeliners do I need to own? I don't even like black eyeliner, it makes me look like the walking dead.

Actually, there was a dark period in my life where I would wear this dark blue eyeliner on my lower lid, but I wouldn't wash it off for a couple days and it would get all smudged and gross, and people would try to tell my that my eyeliner was smudged but I would turn my nose up and say in a haughty voice, "It's called a smoky eye," which is a makeup thing that I don't really understand.

Anyway, targeted marketing is supposed to be "the way of the future". Business people and marketing executives are always talking about the effectiveness of targeting marketing and controversies over internet privacy and all those exciting things. I find this to be silly because really, if you use the internet, everyone already knows everything about you. It doesn't matter how many numbers and capital letters are in your password, hackers can find out EVERYTHING. The reason you shouldn't worry about it is that really, no one cares. Does everyone think that they are so interesting that all the hackers and governments are trying to get into your inboxes? Because no one cares about your addiction to argyle dog sweaters on Amazon.com, or the follow-up emails from your gynecologist, or the results of all those personality quizzes that you take (Your spirit animal is: the Cockroach!).

Moral of the story: targeted marketing is stupid because every time I check my spam folder on gmail, it starts showing me ads for Spam the food. I don't want Spam the food. I don't even know what that is, and it comes in a can, and it looks like cat food. Shnasty mcnasty.

Review of the Plague

There aren't many people today who were alive at the time of the Plague. Plague is capitalized because this is her majesty The Plague that we're talking about. THE. PLAGUE.

The Plague had lasting effects on our society, including an irrational hatred of rats that has persisted in society to this very day. Rats are awesome. They even clean themselves, just like cats!

I LOVE RAAAAAAAATS!!!!!!



The number one reason that the Plague sucks is because of the following:

Dun dun duuuuuuuun!!!

The above picture is of a doctor. According to Wikipedia, being a plague doctor was basically the worst job ever. You had to wear that creepy-as-fuck mask, and it was filled with "aromatic items". Wikipedia does not specify what kind of aromatic items were put inside this mask. Considering the Middle Ages was also known as the Age of Bad Smells, that mask could have been filled with anything from rose petals to old gym socks. Have you ever smelled old gym socks? Because they are shnasty mcnasty.

Besides the smelly mask, plague doctors were not even real doctors. Some were shitty doctors who couldn't get jobs anywhere else, but many were just regular old people who couldn't find regular old jobs and so took up the task of "treating the Plague", aka making shit up.

Can you imagine going to the doctor's office and finding that not only has your doctor mistaken a Halloween costume for a surgical mask, but your doctor knows less about medicine than you do. Also, the preferred method of treatment is arbitrarily removing bodily fluids in hopes that your nose will stop running. NO DOCTOR. THAT WILL NOT WORK. WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT WOULD WORK. Oh right, because you're a lumberjack disguised as a doctor. Well then.




This post is dedicated to all rats, who are my BFFs.

I don't know the names of these rats because I took this picture from the internet.

Look at those smushies, they are so cute I just want to smoosh them boobooblurgleawwcutesounds.

Review of Politics

I hate politics. This is code for "I hate talking about politics because I have feelings and sometimes I cry." Everyone who knows me can affirm that this is factual. It's okay though, crying is good for cleaning out your eyes (true story).

The only time I ever had fun talking about politics was last summer when I got a call from a strange number. I only picked up because he kept calling over and over again. Like legit three times in a row, one right after the other. So I assumed it was Important or An Emergency or something, right? Well. It was not.

The guy told me it would only take 15-20 minutes. 30 minutes later, he was desperate to get off the phone.

The conversation went somewhat like this:

Guy: I'm going to tell you some names, and for each name I'd like you to choose a number between 0-100 to rate that person, 0 being the least favorable and 100 being the most favorable.

Me: Do I have to use whole numbers?

Guy: What?

Me: Like fractions and decimals, can I use those?

Guy: I mean... it's 0-100...

Me: So no?

Guy: Yeah, if you find that you're at 89.999 for someone, then you can pretty much just say 90.

Me: That's a B+ to an A-.

Guy: Uh... it's a different scale, we're not grading them.

Me: Oh. Okay.

Guy: Are you ready to hear the names?

Me: Yes.

Guy: Barack Obama.

Me: Hm. I mean, I've never met him, but he seems like a nice guy. He smiles a lot.

Guy: Well, yeah, you're not expected to have met these people.

Me: That makes sense.

Guy: So as a politician, not as a person.

Me: Okay, um... 100.

Guy: Okay, Mitt Romney.

Me: 100.

Guy: Uh, okay... Bob Dold.

Me: 100.

Guy: Brad Schneider.

Me: 100.

Guy: Pat Quinn.

Me: 100.

Guy: Rahm Emmanuel.

Me: 100.

Guy: Mark Kirk.

Me: Ooh! 100! I met him once in eighth grade on our Washington trip, he was very nice.

Guy: Okay... Dick Durbin.

Me: 100.

Guy: Michael Madigan.

Me: Um... is he related to Lisa Madigan?

Guy: Uh, I don't know.

Me: She used to have signs around... on the road...


It went on like that for some time.

Guy: If you had to vote right now, who would you vote for?

Me: Is there an option for having a mental breakdown in the voting booth and having to be taken to the hospital?

Guy: Uh... no, but you could say 'Undecided'.

Me: Well then what's the point of asking me the question?

Guy: I think it's just to see who you're leaning toward.

Me: It's a bad question. You should tell them that at your polling hideout.


Towards the end of the 30 minutes...

Me: (ending my entire life story) It's just confusing, you know, like I feel so conflicted all the time, because I don't want anyone to feel bad, and I just want everyone to hug and be friends and everything, and I really don't want to get disowned by my parents and/or grandparents, and sometimes things make me mad but I know I'm just being stupid, so really I don't even know if I should be allowed to vote, because I don't even read the news all that often, but that's because if I did, I'd never get anything done, and I would sit in the woods and cry all the time because of the futility of life.

Guy: (pauses to reflect on the poignancy of what I've just said) I... okay. It's a multiple choice question, so...

Me: (explodes)



Story of my life.

Review of Telemarketers

Nobody likes telemarketers.

It's pretty reasonable, really. No one wants to be sought out on the phone to be pressured to buy something, especially when the product is something stupid that no one even wants. Like getting rid of credit card debt, or saving money on your mortgage, or not paying taxes, or whatever.

You know what all those things have in common? They are all BORING. You know what would be exciting? A jetski, or a moon-bounce, or a dog sleigh. If someone called me and offered me eight huskies and a toboggan, I would give them all my credit card information in a heartbeat.

How could anyone say no to Balto?

Half the time, the telemarketers are trying to sell me something I can't even physically buy. Like mortgages. I'm under the impression that you need to own a house to have a mortgage. In fact, now that I'm thinking about it, 90% of the telemarketing calls I get are for products or services related to owning a house. Do they know that I don't own a house? Even if they managed to get my credit card information, I feel like they wouldn't even be able to use it. How can you buy electricity for a house that doesn't exist? Or plumbing, or miscellaneous legal contracts, or insurance? Or life insurance? There are literally ZERO PEOPLE that I financially support. There are several people who support me, but I don't think they benefit from me having life insurance. So why do people keep trying to sell it to me?

The other thing about telemarketers is that they give me this intense inner conflict.

Below is an example of said internal conflict:

Me 1: I'm going to play a prank on this telemarketer and tell them that I'm dead!
Me 2: First of all, that is really dumb. Second, don't pick up. Just leave them alone.
1: Why? They don't have to call me. If they want to call, then they should be prepared to deal with the consequences.
2: But the actual person calling is just a call center rep. They don't really care whether you buy the product or not, they're just doing their job.
1: Well then maybe I should answer and mess with them. Maybe that little bit of entertainment is going to brighten their boring day of calling people.
2: No, it's not. Do you think you're the first person to try and tell a telemarketer that you're dead? That shit is not funny.
1: If they thought I was dead, maybe they would stop calling me.
2: Nope. Also that makes you a bad person.
1: Remember that time I told a telemarketer that they couldn't talk to my dad because he'd moved to Siberia?
2: Remember that time that you were a twelve year old idiot and thought Siberia was an actual separate country?
1: Siberia is where fun goes to die.
2: I'm hungry.

Lately, the telemarketing issue has gotten out of control. It's all fine and good to ignore a sales call if they only call once or twice, but what do you do if they keep calling? And calling? And CALLING? If someone calls me three times in an hour, then they must have something important to say, right? Plus what if it's someone that I actually would want to talk to? What if it's a friend, or a job opportunity, or a mysterious attractive person that has managed to acquire my phone number out of the ether? Or what if it's a stalker?!

But when curiosity eventually convinces me to pick up the phone, it ends up being someone who wants to let me know that I could be saving SO MUCH MONEY if I just signed up for a financial-analyst-contract-package-miscellaneous-boring-words-thingie. 

And sometimes they know my name. They do that thing where they ask for you by name, which lulls you into a false sense of security, then they whip out the sales pitch.

But now I feel bad, because telemarketers are the most hated people on the planet. All they want is to sell you their crap, just like everyone else in the world. And people are really shitty to them, not just with stupid pranks but with threats and violent words and such. That kind of thing can weigh on your soul.

Also, this one time, I bonded with a telemarketer. It was a very touching experience. He wanted to sell me something else house related, and he said his name was Tom.

Tom: I was wondering if I could talk to you about a blahblahblah house thing?
Me: You know I'm like, 22, right? I live with my parents, I can't even buy that.
Tom: Oh! Uh, would I be able to speak with the homeowner please?
Me: Not exactly, this is my cell phone and I'm at school. Because I'm a student and do not have a house. And I can't give out my parents' phone numbers because I would be in really really big trouble.
Tom: Ah, I see.
Me: Sorry Tom.
Tom: That's okay. Take care!

One week later, I'm at Disney World with my sister and I get a call from the same number.

Tom: Blahblahblah sales pitch that is exactly the same as the other one.
Me: Wait, Tom!
Tom: Uh, yes?
Me: We've already had this conversation.
Tom: Um.
Me: Do you remember? Where you called me, and I was at school, and this is my cell phone?
Tom: Oh yeah, I do remember that.
Me: Yeah. Now I'm at Disney World.
Tom: Oh. That's very nice.
Me: Yep! It's a lot of fun.
Tom: Well, have a good time.
Me: You too, Tom!  

Now, every time I get a call from a telemarketer, I think about Tom and I feel badly. He had a very attractive voice.

Too bad I didn't get his number! Ha ha! (Drum sound for puns)