As sick as i may or may not be, there will be a new Trio tonight. If you have any requests, get them in now so i can rehearse.
by krisis
Personal
I’m so tired of the internet. Sure, it’s the information super-highway and all that bullshit, but lately it’s just plain sucking. It seems like quality content is slipping through the cracks everywhere i turn, and established sites that i’ve always loved are just dull and boring now. I suppose the question is – did the internet out-grow me or did i out-grow it? Sitting here staring at my screen i think i’ve clicked every bookmark link i have and none of them has held my attention for more than a minute or two. Maybe it’s just because i’m not feeling well, or maybe i’ve finally developed an acute case of attention deficit disorder, but i am hating my computer. Someone, please, send me a link i can like!
You really know your brand name is totally proliferated when any similar product is referred to by the general populace by your trademark. For instance, on my last day at the coffee shop my co-worker Sara asked me for the Windex. Now, we’ve never had Windex for the entirety of my time there, and we didn’t have it that day either. What we did have was bluish-green glass and surface cleanser in a squirt bottle, which basically equates to Windex. I got it for her without missing a beat, and didn’t even think about it until later.
My personal favourite example of this phenomenon is in tampons. When i was growing up the only brand of tampons ever to be seen in my house were Tampax tampons, and to this day i honestly don’t know that i could name any other brands. In conversation, i refer to singular “tampon” as “tampon,” and small groups of “tampons” as “tampons,” but any significant grouping or package of tampons is referred to as Tampax – because that’s the only way i ever knew them growing up.
Wow… now there’s a story about condoms and about tampons on the main page at the same time. Search engines are gonna love me….
So, wow, i got a huge response both in visitors and in posts from SurvivorBlog about my final words. Ian of the peanut gallery even got all huffy and called me an irritating prick! Don’t you love pushing people’s buttons? Maybe he’ll actually be around a little more often now; i think that’s the most i’ve ever seen him post in a single day as it is. To counteract his comment, MJ says she misses me already. However, none of the sBloggers expressed much remorse other than Alayna, who invited me to come and visit her in New York (an invitation that my girlfriend is less than thrilled about, i’m sure).
I honestly feel somewhat shitty about writing my last words in such a spiteful fashion; it wasn’t that i was angry, i just felt like saying everything i had neglected to say so far. Maybe i burned a bridge or two, but i at least sparked some conversation in the sBlog itself and in the Peanut Gallery, and god knows they need something to talk about these days.
Time – Evening of Valentine’s Day. Setting – South Street shopping district. Characters – Peter and his mother.
Mom – Oh! What’s this store? It looks cool!
Peter – That’s Condom Kingdom, Mom. [averts eyes, continues walking]
Mom – What?
Peter – Condom Kingdom. Don’t you see the little sperm painted on the sidewalk?
Mom – Oh! That’s what those are. Let’s go in!
Peter – I don’t want to, Mom; i go in there all of the time.
Mom – Oh, good, just what i wanted to hear.
Peter – No, i mean, … i meant… i mean… my friends are always dragging me in there. [averts eyes again, crosses the street] They have some interesting stuff; did you see the penis pasta in the window.
Mom – Well, we could stop in on our way back.
Peter – Oh, sure, just how i want to spend Valentine’s day: shopping for contraceptives with my mother.
Mom – Point taken.
[they continue walking away and incessantly chattering]
I’d like to add that while i am able to actively talk about condoms and penises with my mother in the middle of the street, i find myself physically unable to tell her about my girlfriend. The closest i came was mentioning her name and then replying to my mother’s query about her: “Oh, it’s a long story. She’s a very nice girl, though.”