When Stupid Goes Too Far: A Ban on Glade Air Freshener Products

I am calling for a nationwide, nay, GLOBAL ban on the purchase of any Glade Air Freshener product. The reason for the ban is the unbelievably lame commercials parading across my TV. I hope the actress paid to play the "typical" housewife who makes it her life's mission to hide from friends and family that she USES Glade products enjoys the run because honey, your chances for future employment are not good.

I want to know what level of moron sat around a boardroom and decided that a woman inviting her friends over to do yoga, lying about where the fresh scent in her house comes from, and then experiencing extreme embarrassement when her giggling horde of fellow morons expose her secret decided this was a marketing campaign worth pursuing. I mean... really? That's the best you can do?

Okay... I ran 17 miles this morning and I'm sore and tired which might account for my grumpiness on this matter but still... The commercials are an insult to the intelligence of women. Both to how we're portrayed in the commerical and the expectation that such a high level of stupid will make us want to buy the product.

Sheesh.

Card Me!

We rarely keep alcohol in the house and I was craving a glass of red, so on the way in from Greensboro tonight I stopped by Harris Teeter and bought a bottle. When I handed it to the checkout woman, she glanced at me, then swiped it and told me my total.

HEY. I may be 38 but I looked good today. Damn good. Would it KILL you to ask for my ID? Just to be nice? 

I am sooo having an extra glass tonight on her account.... ;)

Blair Makes It Better

I have the same relationship with my husband that many of us have with car mechanics. We take our car in because it's making a funny noise, only the minute the mechanic slides behind the driver's seat, the funny noise disappears and he's left looking at you with an expression of mild concern for your mental well-being. 

Same thing in the Harris house. If you read yesterday's entry, you know I was trapped at home with no phone and no e-mail. I went to yoga last night to calm down and before I left I checked the phone--still open on the other end and we couldn't call out. Blair gets home, picks up the phone, sets it down, and says, "I've got a dialtone."

On the one hand, bless him for fixing the problem. On the other...are you kidding me? There was a problem! There was no dialtone ALL DAY. Please, Mr. Mechanic, I'm not insane and making the noise up. It really was there..

Sigh. Anyway, Blair also fixed e-mail in a jiff. I had deleted a server link and it took less than 5 minutes to restore it. I'm a happy camper this morning with phone and e-mail.

We're still studying the "no signal" problem from our cell phone and cordless phones though. Blair wonders if the wi-fi that came with the new Macs has anything to do with it. When we got the Mac's is pretty much when the phone problems began. I'm going into Verizon today to get a new cell phone and see if that does anything.

Meanwhile, just happy to have returned to the 21st century.

Trapped Without Technology

If anyone is reading this, send the Geek Squad immediately to my home as I have somehow managed to delete, hide, or banish to the outer reaches of the netherworld my outgoing e-mail server. In an attempt (and yes, I should have known better) to fix the problem with my dena@kissmykittybutt.com e-mail account, I somehow managed to set it up so that ALL my e-mail accounts recieve mail, but I can't send messages out. 

Not only that, but the phone saga continues. For those new to this drama, it goes something like this:

The phone rings in my house. I go to answer it but receive a "Welcome. Please wait..." message on my cordless phone. Meanwhile, the answering machine has picked up and VIP is leaving a message for me. I need to talk to VIP so I bound up the stairs like a bunny on crack, only to pick up the upstairs handheld and receive the same message. Augh!

Sometimes I'm allowed to answer the call only to find the phone immediately hangs up on whomever I'm talking to. I turn to my cell phone but guess what? No service! 

So I'm in a house with iffy phones and no outgoing e-mail. As you might have guessed, I am breathing through a paper bag as I type this, assuring myself it will all work out.

The way it will work out is I'll ambush Blair tonight and make him deal with my mistakes. It's one of the little perks that come with being married to me. I refuse, REFUSE, to get on the line with any form of help service. I feel like a dunce and never know the answers to their questions, ("Ma'am, let's start slow. If you could just tell me your server ID and date of primary installation along with in order of age the 5 least successful presidents of our nation, we'll have you back on-line in no time.")

No. Forget it. I'm not calling. We had dinner with friends Saturday night and my friend Pam feels the same. She and I both lose our minds when dealing with tech service. Our preferred method of dealing with a technology issue is to approach our husbands and yell, "The f***ing thing isn't working again!"

I consider myself a modern, capable, self-sufficient woman in most areas of my life but I'm telling you, if not for Blair I think I'd revert back to smoke signals for sending messages. 

Surely it's faster and more reliable than dealing with tech help.