Terrible Analogies

I’ve often heard that most people who bought a home in a residential area that comes attached with a required Home Owners Association do not like their HOA.  When I’m asked how I feel about HOAs, I often reply that I see them as a necessary evil.  HOAs prevent Joe Dirtbag from leaving non-working cars in his driveway, they keep the noise level down to an acceptable level, and generally hire a landscaping service to keep the outside area clean and well tended.

And then there’s my HOA, which only seems to want to take my money and not provide the services they promise.  If you’ve read this blog long enough you’re familiar with my neighbor who’s the head of the HOA, but is the worst offender of the rules.

Prime example:  A shared fence has been broken for over a month.  This past weekend the hole in the fence mysteriously became a bit wider.  Apparently I’m the only one stuck up enough to want to see this corrected.  Call me vain for wanting to live in a clean neighborhood, but this is an ugly sight to anybody’s standards.

And so, it’s off to the main HOA office tomorrow with this photograph to ask why our Glorious Leader hasn’t brought this to anybody’s attention.  I hate to think that I’m being a prick or anything, but this is an eyesore that makes the neighborhood look like a dump.

I not overreacting, am I?  I mean, if your backyard fence had this gaping hole in it, you’d fix it…right?

Rant Rant

I drove over to the local mall during lunch today, and as soon as I hit the parking lot I knew I had made a terrible mistake. As expected the traffic in the parking lot was bad, but that anticipated nightmare was compounded by the ingeniously positioned four-way stop near the entrance that, for whatever reason, people simply can not handle. When encountering such an obstacle it seems as if most people lose their minds and find it impossible to properly negotiate their way through.

Once past the intersection I had to find a parking spot. Thinking I’d be smart, I headed to the usually deserted upper deck of the parking structure, but was disheartened to discover that I wasn’t the only one taking this tact. It was so crowded that even the handi-capable people were parking up here and slowly ambling their way down the steep arterial decline that spills them to heart the mall.

Twenty minutes later I finally succeeded in locating a spot between a BMW with a fraternity sticker on the rear window, and what appeard to be a monster truck jacked up on steroids with mud flaps emblazoned with silhouettes of naked angel & devil women (what’s up with these anyway? Why do I see them all over nowadays?).

What happened next, as far as I can recall, was a blurry haze of frenzied shoppers, aggressive kiosk owners, dirty/greasy smells from the food court, overpriced crap far out of my budget, people standing in the middle of the aisles talking on their cell phones (are you idiots not aware of your surroundings?), hastily thrown together pop-up stores, cat calendars, near-subliminal advertising passively seeping through the overhead speakers, faded holiday decorations recycled from years past hanging in storefront windows, and an aching feeling in my bones that I’m simply being taking for another overhyped holiday joyride ride again.

And it seems, for yet another year, that I’m complaining about this.  Pitiful…

Forgive me…I just had to vent.  I think I’ll crack open a beer and settle down to a viewing of Inglorious Basterds.  That should cheer me up and set me right.

Blu-ray, Rant, holiday Blu-ray, holiday, Rant

I’ve recently had the auspicious honor of being textually attacked by a spammer who was more than eager to hook me up with “VIP access to some of the hottest clubs in San Diego”. Apparently, this dubious company provides a service that caters to the partying, oversexed frat boy populace that revels in binge drinking, popped collars, faux hawks, trucker hats, and girls named “Bunnie”. I’m unsure how they got hold of my cell phone number, but for several weeks I was the proud recipient six daily text spams, each one encouraging me to contact them for “the hookup”…whatever that is.

Repeated attempts to get them to stop spamming me and to take me off their list went unanswered.  I hate feeling like a victim, so I took the only other action I could.  I contacted the FCC.

You see, in California we can “opt out” of telemarketing phone calls (which I always do).  Upon careful investigation, it appears that cell phone text messages fall into this category.  Unless one has a previous business relationship with a company, that company can not cold call you fishing for business.  Curious to see if I could get any traction with the FCC on this matter, I downloaded and filled out their 1088G Call or Message to Wireless Device Complaint form and mailed it off.

Two weeks later I received an envelope in the mail with this letter enclosed (click to enlarge):

Coincidentally, one week after getting this letter the spam miraculously ceased to darken my cell phone.  Hot damn.  I rarely get to see my tax dollars hard at work, much less accomplishing something worthwhile.   Color me impressed.

Of course this probably means I’ll never get to party with Biff and Candy in the Champagne Room, but given enough time and counseling I think I’ll be able to cope with such a loss…

Personal, Rant Personal, Rant

I swung by Fry’s during lunch today to pick up Terminator: Salvation, and noticed that the ‘New Releases’ blu-ray section was missing.  Walking around for minute thinking that they might have moved it to another location, I quickly came to realize that I didn’t overlook it.  It was simply…gone.

An employee must have seen me wandering around doe-eyed and slack-jawed like an abandoned Alzheimer’s patient off his meds, and he cautiously snuck up on me from downwind, using the bright overhead halogen warehouse lights as cover.  Silently sidestepping into my field of vision, he opened his mouth, and this was our exact conversation:

Fry: “Can I help you find something?”
Me: “You used to have a section for ‘New Releases’…”
Fry (nodding his head): “Yep.”
Me: “Did you move it?”
Fry: “No.  We’re not allowed to have it anymore.”
Me (confused): “Why is that?”
Fry (shrugs his shoulders): “We just can’t.”

Strange.  Having a ‘New Releases’ section helps customers identify (surprise!) new movies that have come out.  Why would Fry’s not allow such an obvious helpful service to its customers?  What kind of mail order college graduate makes these stupid decisions?  Does the mob have a corner on the ‘New Releases’ market, and will break your kneecaps and make you “sleep with the fishes” if they discover that you’re telling customers what the new movies of the week are?  Is this some sort of new rule Corporate came up with, or is this practice much more widespread than that?

Movies, Rant Movies, Rant

The wife and I recently had the distinct displeasure of volunteering our services to dog sit for a neighbor who was traveling out of state.  As we were being walked though the daily routine of two of the most coddled and pampered animals this side of a PeTA afternoon luncheon, my mind began to go numb as the requirements of these two dogs became more maniacal and obtuse than the assembly instructions for the Large Hadron Collider.  As the tour of house and home came to a close we were handed three pages of hand written instructions, a portion of which reads as follows (with the emphases typed in as written):

• Margee gets fed at 8am and 5pm sharp.  Her food bowls can be found in the laundry room.  Margee gets one part dry & one part wet food.  Cut and mix in tripe found in the fridge.
• Margee likes to be talked to while she eats.  You can talk about anything, but speak softly.
• Angee gets fed at 7:30am and 4:30pm sharp!  I can’t emphasis this enough!  Angee gets extremely jealous if she sees Margee eating before her.  Margee’s bowls are under the coffee table in the living room. 
• Angee gets two parts wet and one part dry food.  Pour in a half cup of chicken stock, which can be found in the refrigerator door.  Angee tends to get overexcited and pees when she sees you preparing her food.  Just clean up after her with the paper towels under the sink.
• Walk both dogs at 11am.  Again, I can’t stress this enough!  A walk around the neighborhood is the perfect distance.  When you get back home, Angee will not walk back into the house.  You’ll have to pick her up and carry her to her bed.  Do not put her down on the floor!  Put her down in her bed!
• Playtime is at 3pm.  Again, Angee tends to get excited when it’s playtime.  Again, just clean up after her with the paper towels.
• Angee plays with the tug-o-rope.  Never let her lose or you’ll have a sad dog on your hands!
• Margee plays with the rubber ring.  Don’t let Angee play with the rubber ring or Margee will bite you.
• Put Angee and Margee in their kennels at 8pm.  Margee gets the blue blanket, Angee the green.
• Wash the blankets on Mon/Wed/Fri.  Use the special fabric softener in the laundry room.
• Turn on the radio.  It’s tuned to a station that both Angee and Margee like.  Do not change the station!  If you change it then Angee and Margee will toss and turn all night.

Blah blah blah blah…this went on and on for pages.   For Gawd’s sake, these are dogs, not children.  Dogs live to please their master, not the other way around.  Honestly, this was more trouble than it was worth.  There was no way I was going to baby these animals, cooing to them while they ate and congratulating them for piddling on my shoes whenever I walked through the door.  

On the fourth day we simply fed them dry dog food, played catch with them in the back yard, and made sure they had fresh water.  And you know what, they were fine and appeared to enjoy themselves like dogs are supposed to.  This experience really gave me a window into my neighbor’s soul that I rather wish would have remained shuttered.

Man, some people have their priorities all out of whack and fail to understand when simple dog ownership becomes a target for misplaced emotions.  And people wonder why I’m a cat person.

Which reminds me, don’t get me started on cat people…

Rant, Strange Encounter Rant, Strange Encounter