Well, not yet, but I will be soon. I will finally return to the online world on a regular basis sometime next month, ideally the week of July 7.
Until then, I need to remind myself that there's much to be done this summer. Here's one of my uninteresting bicycling updates.
Recent bicycling totals:
Saturday: 36.5 miles
Sunday: 39 miles
Monday: 40.5 miles
Tuesday: 28.5 miles
Four-day total: 144 miles
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Please join the Foundation for a Milk-Free World
Who knew drinking milk was just as nasty and terrible as smoking and gambling?
Not me.
But I learned that last week, thanks to my never-ending quest to save a buck.
I’m a sucker for those stupid promotions and gimmicks at Walgreen’s. I really should stop going there, it’s a terribly run corporation, and it’s not doing America any favors. I’d stop short of calling it the Wal-mart of the pharmaceutical industry, but it may be just as evil.
But those jip joints are do offer a few things I need at a competitive price. Granted, 99 percent of their crap is overpriced, (and anything on sale at a good price is guaranteed to be out of stock,) but nobody has given me more free toothbrushes than Walgreen’s.
One of their new gimmicks is the “instant reward” or whatever it is they call it. If you buy an advertised product at a set price, you get a coupon for a future purchase. The coupon works like cash, for the most part, although unlike the cash in my wallet, Walgreen’s cash is only good for two weeks. They don’t want my cheap ass saving $3 on a purchase in June, they need me to come in and buy more of their overpriced crap now.
Last week I bought a gallon of milk and two bags of M&Ms at the nearby Walgreen’s. Both products were on sale. The M&Ms were for my card game that night, the milk was for the house. Milk was prominently featured on the weekly sale flier for $2.99 per gallon.
I had one of those instant rewards, worth $3, and like the idiot I am, I forgot to use it when I made my $8 purchase. I realized this sometime Saturday, the day the reward was expiring.
On my way back home Saturday afternoon I stopped at Walgreen’s, figuring I’d purchase another gallon of milk, on sale, and use the coupon. All was fine until I handed it to Sluggo at the register. He said he didn’t think the coupon would work, due to some sort of restriction on its use. He was right.
At that point I asked if he could just apply the coupon to my previous night’s candy purchase. (The receipt was still in my wallet.) He said I’d need to talk to the manager.
So I did, and I asked her how the hell milk could be restricted from purchase with an instant reward. Promotional gimmicks often say that certain items – usually tobacco, lottery tickets, liquor and gift cards – are excluded from the gimmick, but milk?
The manager told me that because milk prices are regulated by the government – they are, somehow, but don’t ask me why – milk cannot be covered by an instant reward.
I didn’t ask why this highly-regulated liquid could be offered at a sale price, something I’m seeing a lot of in grocery store sales fliers lately, but not discounted $3 with what essentially is a cash-back rebate from a separate purchase. I am confident Nancy had no clue.
Instead I just shook my head, accepted $3 cash from her in exchange for the coupon I forgot to use on Friday and left the store.
The government will allow me to buy as much processed sugar as my heart desires with my instant reward, or an addictive over-the-counter medicine, but not milk.
Milk must be as dangerous and addictive as smoking and gambling. If that’s the case, pour me another rum and Diet Pepsi at lunch. If I’m going to drink a harmful liquid, I might as well enjoy my afternoon.
Not me.
But I learned that last week, thanks to my never-ending quest to save a buck.
I’m a sucker for those stupid promotions and gimmicks at Walgreen’s. I really should stop going there, it’s a terribly run corporation, and it’s not doing America any favors. I’d stop short of calling it the Wal-mart of the pharmaceutical industry, but it may be just as evil.
But those jip joints are do offer a few things I need at a competitive price. Granted, 99 percent of their crap is overpriced, (and anything on sale at a good price is guaranteed to be out of stock,) but nobody has given me more free toothbrushes than Walgreen’s.
One of their new gimmicks is the “instant reward” or whatever it is they call it. If you buy an advertised product at a set price, you get a coupon for a future purchase. The coupon works like cash, for the most part, although unlike the cash in my wallet, Walgreen’s cash is only good for two weeks. They don’t want my cheap ass saving $3 on a purchase in June, they need me to come in and buy more of their overpriced crap now.
Last week I bought a gallon of milk and two bags of M&Ms at the nearby Walgreen’s. Both products were on sale. The M&Ms were for my card game that night, the milk was for the house. Milk was prominently featured on the weekly sale flier for $2.99 per gallon.
I had one of those instant rewards, worth $3, and like the idiot I am, I forgot to use it when I made my $8 purchase. I realized this sometime Saturday, the day the reward was expiring.
On my way back home Saturday afternoon I stopped at Walgreen’s, figuring I’d purchase another gallon of milk, on sale, and use the coupon. All was fine until I handed it to Sluggo at the register. He said he didn’t think the coupon would work, due to some sort of restriction on its use. He was right.
At that point I asked if he could just apply the coupon to my previous night’s candy purchase. (The receipt was still in my wallet.) He said I’d need to talk to the manager.
So I did, and I asked her how the hell milk could be restricted from purchase with an instant reward. Promotional gimmicks often say that certain items – usually tobacco, lottery tickets, liquor and gift cards – are excluded from the gimmick, but milk?
The manager told me that because milk prices are regulated by the government – they are, somehow, but don’t ask me why – milk cannot be covered by an instant reward.
I didn’t ask why this highly-regulated liquid could be offered at a sale price, something I’m seeing a lot of in grocery store sales fliers lately, but not discounted $3 with what essentially is a cash-back rebate from a separate purchase. I am confident Nancy had no clue.
Instead I just shook my head, accepted $3 cash from her in exchange for the coupon I forgot to use on Friday and left the store.
The government will allow me to buy as much processed sugar as my heart desires with my instant reward, or an addictive over-the-counter medicine, but not milk.
Milk must be as dangerous and addictive as smoking and gambling. If that’s the case, pour me another rum and Diet Pepsi at lunch. If I’m going to drink a harmful liquid, I might as well enjoy my afternoon.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Where does the time go? (unedited)
It wasn't long ago I was adjusting to the idea of commuting much more than I cared for on a daily basis, not having a home computer at night and relying on the library for occasional weekend checks of my e-mail. It has been more than two months already.
I tired of the cameos at the library within a couple of weeks, instead relying primarily upon my work computer for periodic access to e-mail, my bank account, et al. It wasn't that bad. If I needed to access a website for my job on a regular basis, perhaps life would have been difficult. If my social life revolved around online poker, perhaps life would have been unbearable. But for me life without home internet access has been easy to adjust to.
I had planned to move to a new apartment in April, but for multiple reasons I think I'm going to delay that by one month. By the first weekend in May, however, it's back to some craphole apartment with annoying neighbors. All my living arrangements have been relatively small, one way or another. I've never lived in a big building with the unwashed masses, perhaps I'll avoid that fate again.
So I may not have the privilege of blogging when the mood strikes me until May, and that's fine. I know I would have written a dozen blogs in the past two months had my situation been different, but that's life. Besides, too much of it would have been introspective, and that's boring. There's a value to putting my thoughts into words and being able to see them later, but that's not the sole purpose of this blog, although it seems like it as of late.
Although next time I sit down at this blog I'll probably provide introspective content. I hope to, anyway. I'd like to blog about the things I've learned about life since fire forced me from my apartment in early January. I have learned a lot, not all because of the fire.
I tired of the cameos at the library within a couple of weeks, instead relying primarily upon my work computer for periodic access to e-mail, my bank account, et al. It wasn't that bad. If I needed to access a website for my job on a regular basis, perhaps life would have been difficult. If my social life revolved around online poker, perhaps life would have been unbearable. But for me life without home internet access has been easy to adjust to.
I had planned to move to a new apartment in April, but for multiple reasons I think I'm going to delay that by one month. By the first weekend in May, however, it's back to some craphole apartment with annoying neighbors. All my living arrangements have been relatively small, one way or another. I've never lived in a big building with the unwashed masses, perhaps I'll avoid that fate again.
So I may not have the privilege of blogging when the mood strikes me until May, and that's fine. I know I would have written a dozen blogs in the past two months had my situation been different, but that's life. Besides, too much of it would have been introspective, and that's boring. There's a value to putting my thoughts into words and being able to see them later, but that's not the sole purpose of this blog, although it seems like it as of late.
Although next time I sit down at this blog I'll probably provide introspective content. I hope to, anyway. I'd like to blog about the things I've learned about life since fire forced me from my apartment in early January. I have learned a lot, not all because of the fire.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
On hiatus?
It sucks not being able to blog at night when the mood strikes me, but living in somebody else's home, where there isn't a home computer, leaves a guy with few options. There are topics to blog about, but I'm not sure when I'll get to them. The five weeks since fire drove me from my apartment have been eye opening, and not bad, all things considered. That's a topic to explore another time.
If there's one thing I have taken away from the recent turn of events in my life, it's to live 2008 like it's the last year of my life. I'm not sure where that will leave me in 2009, but I don't want to think that far ahead.
If there's one thing I have taken away from the recent turn of events in my life, it's to live 2008 like it's the last year of my life. I'm not sure where that will leave me in 2009, but I don't want to think that far ahead.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Revisiting Metropolis
This blog includes a few thoughts related to the preceding entry.
When you get outside of suburban areas, towns seem compelled to identify themselves by some trademark. International Falls, Minn., is battling to retain the legal rights to market itself as the “icebox of the nation.” I once worked in a small town that could come up with nothing better than the “land of 57 hills” or something like that.
While reflecting upon the otherwise forgettable southern Illinois town of Metropolis -- which deemed itself worthy of erecting a Superman statue and collecting Superman memorabilia under the guise of being the "home" of Superman -- I realized that 99 percent of the museums and city slogans you come across are warm and fuzzy. Nobody dubs their city “the armpit of Minnesota.” Herman, Minn., is famous for its effort several years ago to market the disproportionate number of eligible bachelors in its boring-ass farming community, and obtained a lot of national recognition for it. But you’d never see the city dub itself “land of undersexed farmers.”
And what are the chances of visiting a museum dedicated to the history of domestic terrorism? I’d happily spend a few hours in a sleepy little town learning more about the dementia of Jeff Dahmer, Charles Manson and the Unabomber. I’m not sure I want to see the contents of Dahmer’s refrigerator on display in a museum, but artifacts from the crime sprees would be as interesting as seeing Fonzie’s leather jacket on display at the Smithsonian, I am sure. I'm also certain that there'll be no Dahmer museum in Stinktown any time soon.
A museum isn't, by definition, a celebration of someone or something. There's a reason why there are war memorials and a Holocaust museum in Washington, D.C. We have no problem with cable channels producing documentaries about tragic events and serial killers or authors compiling books about the same subjects, but why not interactive displays to learn about these same subjects?
I know, rubes won't flock to Stinktown to visit a Dahmer museum the same way they'll flock to see a bronze statue of the Fonz, anticipated to debut by Labor Day. That's a shame.
When you get outside of suburban areas, towns seem compelled to identify themselves by some trademark. International Falls, Minn., is battling to retain the legal rights to market itself as the “icebox of the nation.” I once worked in a small town that could come up with nothing better than the “land of 57 hills” or something like that.
While reflecting upon the otherwise forgettable southern Illinois town of Metropolis -- which deemed itself worthy of erecting a Superman statue and collecting Superman memorabilia under the guise of being the "home" of Superman -- I realized that 99 percent of the museums and city slogans you come across are warm and fuzzy. Nobody dubs their city “the armpit of Minnesota.” Herman, Minn., is famous for its effort several years ago to market the disproportionate number of eligible bachelors in its boring-ass farming community, and obtained a lot of national recognition for it. But you’d never see the city dub itself “land of undersexed farmers.”
And what are the chances of visiting a museum dedicated to the history of domestic terrorism? I’d happily spend a few hours in a sleepy little town learning more about the dementia of Jeff Dahmer, Charles Manson and the Unabomber. I’m not sure I want to see the contents of Dahmer’s refrigerator on display in a museum, but artifacts from the crime sprees would be as interesting as seeing Fonzie’s leather jacket on display at the Smithsonian, I am sure. I'm also certain that there'll be no Dahmer museum in Stinktown any time soon.
A museum isn't, by definition, a celebration of someone or something. There's a reason why there are war memorials and a Holocaust museum in Washington, D.C. We have no problem with cable channels producing documentaries about tragic events and serial killers or authors compiling books about the same subjects, but why not interactive displays to learn about these same subjects?
I know, rubes won't flock to Stinktown to visit a Dahmer museum the same way they'll flock to see a bronze statue of the Fonz, anticipated to debut by Labor Day. That's a shame.
Metropolis, bluegrass, fine wine and Geritol
My recent trip to Gulf Coast, Alabama, was less than spectacular, but it wasn’t expected to be highly exciting. My mother recently retired and is spending two months there at a condo overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. (Mom did well during her years of employment; the condo she is renting is on the top floor of her development.) I went along for the ride, literally.
Since mom is spending two months there, she needs a vehicle to get around town. She didn’t want to drive by herself, so I was recruited to assist. Being young and allegedly healthy, I was more than up to the 1,400-mile task. Although not by design, I did a majority of the driving.
Our first day was a long, uneventful trip all the way to southern Illinois. We stopped a few miles short of the Kentucky border in the city of Metropolis.
I’ve heard of this town, and like many small towns, it needed an identity. Metropolis dubbed itself the home of Superman, since that’s the name of the fictional city in which the comic book chronicles the life of Clark Kent. Before departing Metropolis to begin our Day 2 journey we drove into town to see its giant Superman statue. It’s probably 18 or 20 feet tall. It’s nifty, but not worth driving out of your way to see.
There is, however, a nearby museum of Superman memorabilia through the decades. On a cold Thursday morning in January I was hard pressed to believe that many people were flocking to the museum at 9 a.m., but that’s when it opened. Had I been determined to see an authentic costume from the Superman movies of the 1970s and ‘80s I probably could have convinced mom we needed to stick around town, since we were there five minutes before the museum opened, but it wasn’t that important to me. Maybe next year, if there is a next year.
Day 2 quickly brought us to Kentucky, and although I’m not sure what bluegrass looks like, I saw some distinct patches of green as we traveled across the state. It’s easy to forget how much milder winter is by the time you reach southern Illinois. Sure, it was cold that day by Minnesota standards, but not ridiculously cold. To hear the local forecasters talk, however, hell had frozen over.
About an hour from Gulf Shores we stopped to fill the gas tank. I was surprised to find wine in the convenience store. Like Florida, you could buy 12-packs of beer and single cans of Bud Light from an enticing tub of ice right near the cashier, but the rack of unchilled wines, and the selection of chilled offerings next to the beer, struck me as odd. I realize there’s no reason a bottle of fine wine needs to come from a pretentious liquor store, but is there really that great of a demand for fine wine by the hicks of Alabama? I guess there is.
My two days in Gulf Shores were less memorable thanks to the fact it was cloudy and cool, with occasional rain. The average high in January is 60 degrees, and while Friday wasn’t bad, it didn’t top 50 degrees during my stay. Saturday seemed colder, thanks to morning rain and damp air throughout the day.
As one would expect, Gulf Shores is Geritol City. On Friday night we went to dinner with two of mom’s friends who spend their winters in Gulf Shores. One of her friends commented on the fact I was a fresh face in a sea of antiquity. She was right. With the exception of the hired help, those without Medicare were few and far between. I noted, however, that I’d fit in well with the crowd, thanks to my pacemaker.
Mom is in her early 60s. She keeps rather busy with a variety of activities. She’s young compared to most of her Gulf Shores peeps, and healthy. She’s retired and will be able to enjoy the rest of our Minnesota winter in relative warmth, playing cards, reading books, sewing quilts, socializing with friends and learning to operate her new laptop computer. She worked hard to get where she is today, and she deserves it.
I have seen it firsthand. If the ghost of Heath Ledger knocked on my door and offered me a choice between ascending to mom’s Gulf Shores throne when I turn 60, or checking out when I turn 58, the choice for me isn’t as obvious as it may seem.
Since mom is spending two months there, she needs a vehicle to get around town. She didn’t want to drive by herself, so I was recruited to assist. Being young and allegedly healthy, I was more than up to the 1,400-mile task. Although not by design, I did a majority of the driving.
Our first day was a long, uneventful trip all the way to southern Illinois. We stopped a few miles short of the Kentucky border in the city of Metropolis.
I’ve heard of this town, and like many small towns, it needed an identity. Metropolis dubbed itself the home of Superman, since that’s the name of the fictional city in which the comic book chronicles the life of Clark Kent. Before departing Metropolis to begin our Day 2 journey we drove into town to see its giant Superman statue. It’s probably 18 or 20 feet tall. It’s nifty, but not worth driving out of your way to see.
There is, however, a nearby museum of Superman memorabilia through the decades. On a cold Thursday morning in January I was hard pressed to believe that many people were flocking to the museum at 9 a.m., but that’s when it opened. Had I been determined to see an authentic costume from the Superman movies of the 1970s and ‘80s I probably could have convinced mom we needed to stick around town, since we were there five minutes before the museum opened, but it wasn’t that important to me. Maybe next year, if there is a next year.
Day 2 quickly brought us to Kentucky, and although I’m not sure what bluegrass looks like, I saw some distinct patches of green as we traveled across the state. It’s easy to forget how much milder winter is by the time you reach southern Illinois. Sure, it was cold that day by Minnesota standards, but not ridiculously cold. To hear the local forecasters talk, however, hell had frozen over.
About an hour from Gulf Shores we stopped to fill the gas tank. I was surprised to find wine in the convenience store. Like Florida, you could buy 12-packs of beer and single cans of Bud Light from an enticing tub of ice right near the cashier, but the rack of unchilled wines, and the selection of chilled offerings next to the beer, struck me as odd. I realize there’s no reason a bottle of fine wine needs to come from a pretentious liquor store, but is there really that great of a demand for fine wine by the hicks of Alabama? I guess there is.
My two days in Gulf Shores were less memorable thanks to the fact it was cloudy and cool, with occasional rain. The average high in January is 60 degrees, and while Friday wasn’t bad, it didn’t top 50 degrees during my stay. Saturday seemed colder, thanks to morning rain and damp air throughout the day.
As one would expect, Gulf Shores is Geritol City. On Friday night we went to dinner with two of mom’s friends who spend their winters in Gulf Shores. One of her friends commented on the fact I was a fresh face in a sea of antiquity. She was right. With the exception of the hired help, those without Medicare were few and far between. I noted, however, that I’d fit in well with the crowd, thanks to my pacemaker.
Mom is in her early 60s. She keeps rather busy with a variety of activities. She’s young compared to most of her Gulf Shores peeps, and healthy. She’s retired and will be able to enjoy the rest of our Minnesota winter in relative warmth, playing cards, reading books, sewing quilts, socializing with friends and learning to operate her new laptop computer. She worked hard to get where she is today, and she deserves it.
I have seen it firsthand. If the ghost of Heath Ledger knocked on my door and offered me a choice between ascending to mom’s Gulf Shores throne when I turn 60, or checking out when I turn 58, the choice for me isn’t as obvious as it may seem.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Racism in America?
My employer recognizes the Martin Luther King holiday by giving its employees a floating holiday instead of closing the office for a day. In the past I would take the day off and spend a long weekend in Stinktown. This year I chose to work on Monday. Does that make me a racist?
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