Scott Cramer wrote this.

I sold some kid’s clothes to a used clothing store. The store clerk who was purchasing the clothes asked if I’d like cash or store credit.

“What’s the difference?” I asked. I figured there was probably a higher monetary value if I accepted store credit.

“Well,” she said, “cash you can spend anywhere and store credit you can only spend here.”

I paused before speaking and studied her face for a moment to see if she was being sarcastic with me. Nope. She was serious.

I redirected my question. “I meant is there a difference in the amount if I choose cash instead of store credit?”

“No,” she answered, “they’re the same.”

Agh! I started to ask why they’d bother having a cash option and store credit option if there was no incentive to take the store credit, but after her first answer – I was already thinking meat robot – I just took the cash and walked away.

I visited the doctor’s office. The nurse that called me from the waiting room asks, “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Well, other than having to be here and all.” I replied.

“True…” She pointed me to the patient room.

I waited there for a while and the nurse that comes in to check your stats before the doctor shows up came in. She asks, “So, how are you today?”

“Umm… Well, I’d say good except that I had to come to the doctor’s.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s true!” She smiled and laughed.

After she left I got to wait a while more before an intern working with the doctor came in to examine me. As part of her introduction? Yup. “How are you today?”

AHHHH!!! If I were *GOOD* I wouldn’t be at the freaking doctor’s office!!! What is wrong with these people?!

Yesterday was the 5th anniversary of the September 11th World Trade Center disaster. I had already eaten lunch at a diner in town named “Liberty Diner” with a Statue of Liberty and New York centric theme. I didn’t really think anything about it. Later that evening I was with my girlfriend and her daughter and we wanted to grab a quick bite to eat – they chose Liberty Diner. Still, nobody noticed the irony of it.

While waiting for the food to arrive, I was playing with the American flag placemat in front of me. I folded it lengthwise down the center and then started folding each of the top corners in toward center.

I stopped cold.

“What the hell am I doing?”

My girlfriend and her daughter just looked at me wondering what I was talking about. We always joke around at the table but this statement was out of the blue.

I pointed down to the half-built paper airplane I was planning to throw across the table – and quickly crumpled it into an unrecognizable wad of paper.

IAC/INTERACTIVECORP recently purchased a majority stake in CollegeHumor.com for a reported $20 million. Also, Viacom reportedly is in acquisition talks with the Onion.

I was doing research on colonics for yesterday’s post and a Google Image search for “high colonic” turned up the scary commercial guy I posted about several years ago!

I followed the image link back to a New Jersey transit blog post from 2004 complaining about having to see this guy on transit ads. It got me curious. I had previously found out the character’s name from the Six Flags ads is “Mr. Six”. I searched on that term and it led me to another blog where writer Paul Davidson had just this year uncovered the actor behind Mr. Six.

The actor? Danny Teeson. He’s part of the cast in Bravo TV spinoff Queer Eye for the Straight Girl – which just so happens to be another blog post of mine where I predicted his TV series years before it’s inception. I called it Butch Eye for the Girlie Girl. I guess they couldn’t use my title without paying me royalties or something.

Add all this to the fact that ever since I first posted about this Six Flags pitchman, I get a minimum of several visits a week to my blog by people searching for the term “scary commercials”.

I just can’t escape this creepy guy!

The 49-cent burger or 69-cent cheeseburger from White Castle.

The poor person’s colonic.

It’s never a quick trip to the grocery with me. Ask my girlfriend. She’ll be twenty feet away before realizing I’ve stopped and am standing with camera phone in hand taking pictures of some product – while other nearby shoppers stare at me like I’m crazy.

Here’s the latest “got my attention” grocery pics!

Ooo! Does my little baby want some “Broccoli Wokly” to go with her dinner din din??? Cootchie cootchie coo! *barf-o-rama!*

I picked some of this spicey jack cheese up and put it in the cart before noticing the tagline above the brand. “It’s Grandma Good!” Spicy Jack with jalapeno peppers? Amish grandmas must be freak’n tough, man!

I guess “Realfuk’n Good” was already taken.

No way! “Chocolate Cheese Fudge” wasn’t a big seller?!? It’s even “Made in Wisconsin” where they hammer out the cows on real marble tables and let them cool before cutting them into delicious used-oil-brown chunks of cheesey fudgy goodness. I guess if only it had been “Grandma Good” or “Heluva Good” they might have had something.

And on the way out, I saw this Oreo display by the checkout. “Show Your Love.” Can’t you just hear the thought process that must have been going on in this shopper? “Oh yeah, got me some flavored condoms!” *insert bang-chica-bang-bang music here* “Gonna have a good time tonight!”

“Oooo… wait-a-minute! Oreo wafer sticks!!!”

Thanks to Dave from Dave’s Beach Bar, here are some edits of my partner/brother Keith from yesterday’s post.

(click either image for a larger view – if you dare!)

Ditch the leather, bro. You can keep the glasses, but for all that’s holy, ditch the leather. 😉

My business partner…

…and brother.

Yes, we *do* work in the matrix. 😉

Typoglycemia. One mroe roasen taht hunmas win oevr mncaehis. Of course, I uesd a cuotmepr pagrrom on the web to scamlbre tihs txet, but I’m not dmub, jsut lzay. 😉

If you could still read the above passage, check out Typoglycemia. The basics of it are that as long as all the letters are there and the first and last letters remain the same, readers will have little trouble reading the text.

Pretty cool!

I’ve been a mess this past week. My little girl is 6 years old this year and started kindergarten. A million other kids go through it but she’s not a million other kids to me. She’s my *one* in a million!

She took three years to conceive and when she was born, you could hold her in one hand she was so tiny. The doctor called her a “little peanut”.

Maddie at 6 days old

When she was a year old, I wrote the following…

There is no greater sound than my daughter’s laugh. No greater sight than her smile. The look of joy in her eyes because she is with me and I’m flying her effortlessly through the living room. No screaming or mistrust. No generation gap. Not yet. I’d step in front of a bullet for her. It wouldn’t take a second thought. I’d stand up to God for her. I never knew the depth of love and devotion before she came into this world. And one day I’ll let her go. She’ll start her own journey and make her own mistakes. I’ll be strong for her. I’ll cry for both of us. But for now, there is her laugh. Her smile. Everything else is tomorrow.

It all feels like yesterday.

After the divorce, she moved with her mother several hours away. Since that day I’ve read the above passage a million times. The phrase “one day I’ll let her go” ringing in my mind. Since then I’ve called her most every night. I’ve had to learn – and still am learning – how to balance my life apart from her with the precious time I get to have her with me.

Now, kindergarten. She’s started in a new world all her own – away from both parents. Truly her own journey. I said I’d be strong for her – but to me she’s still that helpless “little peanut” and that laughing little girl flying around the living room in my arms.

Maddie at 6 years old

I talk to her a minute one night, 2 minutes another night, maybe 8 or 9 once in a while – as much phone time as a 6-year-old ready for bed wants to give. She knows she’ll be seeing me so I think it’s her that’s stronger than me most nights.

“One day I’ll let her go?” When she moved away? When she started kindergarten? One day when she gets married? I think the art is “letting go” and “never letting go” all at once. She will make her own mistakes – and she’ll live with the mistakes of others. I’d still step in front of a bullet for her or stand up to God for her. But the hardest thing of all is to stand back and know she can do it on her own.

So, “everything else is tomorrow?” Yes, but tomorrow isn’t some unknown future time. It’s a few hours from now, then the next day, and the next, and every day after that. Kindergarten is hard, but it’s knowing that she can handle it – and letting go. It’s letting her dodge the bullets and stand up tall but always being there for her – and never letting go.

A man approached my girlfriend and I as we were stopped at a gas station. He told us he needed a “relay” from a local parts store and he gave us the name and directions to where he was talking. He pulled out a crumpled mass of dollars and change and told us he had over forty dollars but that he was four dollars and eighteen cents short. He went on to say he had never asked another man for a dollar in his life, that he was in Fort Wayne from Mississippi – he showed us his driver’s license – and that he and his wife – he pointed to her in a car near ours – had not been able to get ahold of anybody they knew and were desperate. It was Saturday evening and it made sense that the parts store was probably about to close. He looked me in the eye telling the story and his body language spoke more of embarassment than dishonesty. We hadn’t said no so I’m sure he knew we were considering it. He told us he’d take our address and even send the money back if we could help him out. In the end, we gave him five bucks and one of my business cards with contact information. He thanked us and I swear it seemed sincere. He took the card and repeated my name and said thanks again. He walked over to his wife and they took off – she even nodded and mouthed thanks to us as they drove away.

So… A desperate plea for four dollars and some change at a gas station on a Saturday night. Did we honestly help someone out in need? Or were we now patrons of the arts? Con-arts, that is. If he *was* a con, I think I’m okay with the loss of the fiver because it was *darn* good. I’ve paid more – think $7.50 times 2 for movie tickets – for movies that weren’t as believable. In fact, I think I would have offered another ten dollar bill in my wallet and a promise of no prosecution if in the end he would have told me it was or was not a scam.

Pros – He was very believable. He had convincing facts on the auto part he needed and where he was buying it. He showed us a driver’s license. He passed us by initially and went into the gas station; he only approached us on the way out making it believable he was trying to contact someone else. His body language was convincing. He did have money with him. He only asked for a very little amount. He offered to take our address and send the money back. He showed pride in being embarassed to ask for money and stating he’d never asked another man for a dollar.

Cons – Everything I just said is exactly what a good con artist *would* do. Sigh. Four dollars and some change is *just* shy of a whole bill that most people would have on them – *and* most people would round up. If he was from Mississippi and was so short on cash, how was he going to afford gas to get back there? I remembered seeing his wife smoking a cigarette as they drove away. Don’t those cost like fifty bucks a pack these days? The parts store he mentioned was on my way home and I didn’t see his vehicle there. I added up how much time he spent with us and calculated how many gas stations there were around us – and a good con could stand to make a decent chunk of change in an hour or two before hitting the nearby highway and disappearing down the road to his next “mark”.

What I should have done – Offered to go with him to the parts store and run the remaining amount on my debit card. Doh. I think cons don’t count on you to think *too* much in the middle of their performance. The art of distraction and all that.

My conclusion – I’m pretty sure we got conned. However, for the performance and in the end, the entertainment thinking about it and deliberating with friends and family about it, I got more satisfaction giving him the money than by dropping it in any charity collection jars (sorry Jerry’s kids). Plus, I know me. I would have been more miserable wondering if I’d dissed some poor guy in need than losing five bucks on a *convincing* con. Please note I say “convincing”. I’m a good mark, not a total patsy. There is a difference. 😉

Things I learned at the 2006 Indiana State Fair.
Click on any images for a larger view.

Vendors love it when you try on their stuff, take cheesy tourist photos, and then leave without buying anything.

Home of the “Monkey Nut”. Now I know.

Take a closer look at Monroe. I think the whole “Big Dog” diner thing is a compensation. 😉

Ignore the fact the vegetables are battered and deep fried. They’re endorsed by “Dr Vegetable” on this cart.

When taking a picture of a sign that says “World’s Largest Boar” with an arrow on it, watch where your shadow falls in the picture.

At fairs, anything can be fun. I look way too excited to see a heat-exhausted boar the size of a beached whale. PETA would be so proud.

American preferences run as follows: “Deep Fried”, then “Chocolate Covered”, and then “Healthy Fruit”. By the way, deep fried chocolate covered strawberries are YUMMY. 😉

Elephant ears still rule!

I “saw” the American Idol 2006 concert.

Thanks Ticketmaster.

Click for larger view.

“I” before “E” except after “C”. Or apparently, any other bloody time some word doesn’t want to follow the rules!

People are lazy. We make a cute sounding rule to help us remember how to spell – and as it turns out we don’t even bother quoting the *ENTIRE* rule when we pass it along.

• Rule
  Write I before E
  Except after C
  Or when it sounds like an A
  As in “neighbor” and “weigh”

Hey, that’s much better! That spells it all out. Right? Wrong.

• Use “I” before “E” after “C” if it carries an “sh” sound (e.g., deficient).

• Use “E” before “I” with words with long “ain” sound (e.g., feign, reign).

Now we’ve got it covered! Right? Wrong.

• Five exceptions: caffeine, leisure, protein, seize, weird

And we get mad when immigrants don’t learn English.

A few days ago I discovered – quite painfully – that wasps and bees had decided they were no longer going to share the landscaping at the front of my office building. In fact, they had set up several nests both over the front door and *in* the front door itself. Walking out to check the mail woke them up and by the time I returned I was lucky to make it into the building again with only one sting.

As I was sitting at my desk with a plastic bag of ice on my face, one of my partners (who also owns the building) came in and asked what was wrong. I told him the front of the building had been taken over by wasps and bees.

His response? “Yeah, I know. You shouldn’t use that door.”

Grr! I thanked him for warning everyone ahead of time and suggested an exterminator or at least some bug spray.

Later that day, I was walking by the foyer and saw a sign taped to the inside of the front door. “DO NOT USE. BEES!” For added protection, the door was locked.

Work with me for a moment here. Lets say a visitor or salesperson comes to the building – and they’re silly enough to think the front door is the appropriate way to gain entrance to an establishment. They pull on the front door to open it and it’s locked. A few wasps and bees take flight. They rattle the door again just to be sure it really is locked. They’re thinking, “Gee, there are cars in the parking lot. Why’s the front door locked?” Depending on how quick they are to notice the growing swarm of angry wasps and bees surrounding them, they might even have time to think, “Hmm. I wonder what that blank piece of paper taped to the door is all about.”

I wish we had video surveillance because I’d love to know how many men and women in suits and high heels were seen flailing their arms at the air around them while running away from our building screaming in terror.

My name is Scott.

I hate bees. This is my story.

I was walking back into my office building after checking the mailbox. As I approached the door I felt something on my face at the edge of my glasses.

My ninja-like reflexes kicked in instantly.

First, warrior cry.
“Oh @#$%^!!! Get it off me now!!!”

Second, uncanny physical defensive moves.
Picture the bottom half of my body jumping up into the air while the top half flings itself to the ground. Oh yeah, all at the same time slapping myself in the face and knocking off my glasses. Did you ever see the lead singer of “Midnight Oil” dance? Something like that. Not a child of the 80’s? Think Taylor Hicks, the 2006 American Idol winner.

Peter Garrett, lead singer of “Midnight Oil”

Taylor Hicks, 2006 American Idol winner

Third, mind over matter mastery of pain.
At first I thought I’d avoided the attack. Then the outside edge of my left eye started burning a little. “Oh well, the little bugger got me.” Then it burned a little more. “Hmm, perhaps I should go inside now. Where are those glasses?” Then suddenly I was on fire. “AHHH! I’m on fire!”

The bee was obviously a darker master of the ninja arts than I.

I stumbled back to my office and asked my brother-slash-partner for medical assistance. If you ask him about it, the words “pitifully whined for help” might come up. Don’t ask him. He is not a ninja and he lies.

I was shopping with my girlfriend and saw this tag.

“I AM WASHABLE”

On men’s clothing, okay, I would understand. However, I thought women were good about washing their clothes. 😉