Toilet Paper and a question about Suburbia

1.  No, nobody on the planet is confusing this toilet paper with a robe.  I know that the people who make this ad realize that and this is just a joke, but it's still a pretty stupid line.

2.  I've lived in the suburbs for more than twenty years.  I have never once seen anyone actually stand on the sidewalk in front of their house wearing a robe and holding a cup of coffee.  Or even just wearing a robe.  Does this ever happen in real life?  And if so, may I ask why?  Is standing in front of all your neighbors wearing a bathrobe and holding a cup of coffee just a privilege of suburban living I've never taken part in, or what?

Audi's Summer of burning bridges and being totally unrelatable

The woman is this ad is openly appreciated at work- not quietly, not behind closed doors in the boss's office, but openly in front of all of her co-workers.

She also makes so much money at her job that she's got the financial security to just quit on a whim, walk down the street, and buy herself an equipped-to-the-gills Audi.

Yeah, I can really relate to this woman.  She goes back to her desk after being publicly congratulated for being such a fine team member, only to notice that she's written "Work at my Dream Company" " on piece of paper which I guess is her bucket list.  She decides that her "Dream Company" doesn't include a place where she's appreciated or very well-paid, so she thanks her boss and her "teammates" by packing up her personal items and quitting because....well, I guess because this isn't her "Dream Company."

She isn't the least concerned about paying her bills, even to the point of immediately dropping $50 grand on an automobile without giving it a second thought.  This is what we all do when we quit our jobs, right?  Go out and buy ourselves very expensive luxury automobiles?

She also isn't at all concerned about getting into that "Dream Company" because she's going to start it herself.  What's this company going to do or produce?  Well, if she's planning to use the expertise she built up in her Not-Dream Company, she might find herself in court- there are these things called "non-competion clauses" in contracts to prevent self-centered, ungrateful douchenozzles from doing exactly what she seems to be planning here. 

She isn't at all put off by the (I know, silly and very remote) possibility that she might not be running her Dream Company TOMORROW and might need to keep picking up a paycheck from an employer for a while, as she's pretty much screwed herself out of a good reference from her ex-employer, as she gave zero notice before quitting.  Hey, Stupid Woman- when you wake up tomorrow and realize that you don't have the seed money to start your Dream Company becaus you sunk it into a showy toy with wheels, you might find it difficult to get hired by one of those awful employers now that you've revealed that you're a flaky, erratic knob who might walk away at any moment?

And yet, I'm totally inspired by all this, Audi.  In a month I'll be in Back to School meetings, going over schedules and IEPs and learning how much more my health insurance is going to cost in the 2018-2019 session.  At some point I'll write "Start My Dream School" on a piece of paper, get up, and walk out without a word of explanation.  I'll head right out to my nearest Audi dealer as the first step toward starting that Dream School.  I'm not going to contemplate right now that it'll probably be the last step, too. 

Ancestry.com's Anthem to Ancestor Worship

The gag-inducing punchline of this awful, self-aggrandizing nonsense is "now I know where my strength comes from."  I mean, seriously, never mind the syrup of Ipecac.  All you'll ever really need is that awful line bleated by this clueless idiot.

So this woman didn't get her strength from her actual PARENTS- you know, the people who raised her and who played an actual, hands-on role in teaching her how to think of herself and deal with the world.  She didn't get her strength from teachers or friends who encouraged her to push through hardships.  OH NO, her strength was passed down THROUGH HER FREAKING DNA because once upon a time a woman who lived far, far away did something that required strength.  Uh huh.

Hey, Stupid Idiot Whose Ancestors Were Obviously Morons (that's where you got THAT from:)  If you actually believe that "strength" is passed down in the freaking gene pool, where did that Awesome Female Tribal Chief get HERS from?  Was it just a mutated gene that originated with HER? I mean, can we be consistent about this for a minute?  What's the gene for strength again?

Oh and hey SIWAWOM, while we're asking questions, where did your amazing ability to misplace credit come from?  Did you have some maternal great-grandmother back in Zimbabwe who regularly thanked the rooster for making the sun come up?  Just asking, because by your own logic, your rock-stupid determination to associate positive character traits with a long-dead ancestor must come from SOMEBODY, right? 

Or maybe you've got the original mutated gene, and in three hundred years some idiot relative of yours will finally understand why she's such a clueless knob - it's because she's got some of your DNA?

I don't get the attraction to any of this.  I "inherited" personality traits from my parents- because I spent a lot of time with them when I was a child, go figure.  How the F--K could I "inherit" a personality trait from someone I never met and didn't know even existed until I inexplicably decided it would be a good idea to send a vial of spit to Lehi, Utah?  Dark hair, sure.  Height, fine.  "Strength?" Freaking gag me.

One more quick note to the stunningly idiotic woman with the wistful "I'm important because someone related to me on the other side of the planet was important once" look on her face:  No, you're not.  Not until YOU actually do something.  And no, obsessing over your ancestry doesn't cut it.  All that proves is that you're stupid with money and really, really full of your non-achieving self.

A good Amtrak Commercial. Don't worry, this won't be a trend.

Back in the 1980s I was a student at The Catholic University of America in Washington, DC and at least once each year I used Amtrak to travel home to Vermont for vacation.  I always traveled coach, and back then Amtrak not only didn't offer WiFi but it wasn't even really great at consistent lighting- if you traveled at night and tried to read you could expect to have the lights go on and off as the rickety train rolled up and down the Northeast Corridor- which means that unless you liked arriving at your destination with an upset stomach and headache, you probably didn't try to read.

And because it was the 1980s, you didn't yak away on your cellphone and neither did anyone else because hey, no cellphones.  You were pretty much out of touch with the world while you were on that train.  And oddly enough, this was ok.

During one trip- I think it was around Christmas- I was sitting in my seat on the train to Vermont when a young woman my age asked to sit next to me.  She introduced herself and we ended up talking for hours.  At one point she fell asleep on my shoulder while using my headphones (oh yeah, we had Walkmans so we had headphones.)  We said goodbye when I exited the train at Montpelier- she was going on to Montreal.  I never saw her again, though we did write for a while. Her name was Astrid.

Anyway, I don't have a problem with this Amtrak commercial at all.  It  looks like these kids are doing what I did on a regular basis almost forty years ago- taking a train home during a break in classes because it's still cheaper than an airplane ticket and can actually be kind of fun if you know how to relax and watch the scenery and enjoy being with fellow human beings.  I don't even mind the selfies, because they aren't being obnoxious about it.  I also like that they aren't constantly on those phones but are actually doing things like talking, daydreaming, taking in the scenery and napping.  It's actually pretty cool.

Ok, back to being a curmudgeon next time.  I promise.

More fun with Grammarly, the BFF of Lazy, Illiterate Twits....

...who don't want own the fact that they are lazy, illiterate twits and actually DO something about it instead of embracing this electronic crutch?

Anyone want to comment on the fact this college student is using Grammarly to write a term paper on "The Power of Words?"

Anyone want to comment on the fact that this college student seems completely incapable of constructing a sentence without resorting to cliche's, buzzwords, or outright plagiarism? 

Will this college student ever admit that if she had been born five years earlier, her college career would have ended in the first semester because she's an illiterate doofus who has no business taking up a seat in a class which should be occupied by an actual student with actual writing skills, or at least someone who is interested in improving her writing skills rather than letting an online editing program do her writing for her?

Anyone else wonder why teachers even bother assigning research papers or any kind of writing that takes place outside the classroom when we've got programs like Grammarly out there?  Unless the student is sitting right in front of you writing in longhand, how do you even know it's her work? 

Is it time to admit that Grammarly is to English skills what the calculator is to Math skills, and that asking people to learn how to write is the modern version of asking them to work out calculations using a pencil and paper?  I mean, in a world where "do research" means "Ask Google," what's the point of even pretending anymore?

I have no idea why Southwest keeps assaulting me with this

Seriously, this ad is running during every commercial break- sometimes twice- sometimes TWICE IN A ROW- of tonight's Red Sox v Blue Jays game.  And I'm pretty sure that no matter how many times it hits me over the head, I still won't understand what exactly is going on here.

I mean, I get the message.  Southwest has high consumer satisfaction ratings.  Great. Cool.  Whatever.  I won't even point out that judging one airline against another in consumer satisfaction is like looking for the tallest dwarf in Narnia these days.  Everyone hates the airlines, and for good reason.  All the domestic carriers suck.  Each and every one.  The internationals?  I have very limited experience there, but no complaints from me.

What I want to know is, what are these stupid grinning idiots grinning stupidly about?  They don't look like they sit on the Board of Directors at Southwest.  They look like stewards and baggage handlers and maybe pilots.  What are they getting so excited about?  And why are they incapable of showing excitement in a realistic, relateable way?  I mean, Jesus- they look like they just won the freaking lottery, not that the airline they happen to draw a paycheck from is more popular than an airline they DON'T work for.  Why does it matter so much to them?

I guess it's probably a good thing that I have never been asked to fill out a customer satisfaction survey by Southwest.  The only time I ever used the airline was in June, 2017 when I had to fly to Tampa.  The flight was fine.  I liked not paying for my bag.  But man oh man did I hate the "pick any seat" strategy.  At least a dozen people in front of me on the line to board the plane were lying about their boarding numbers and cutting in front of people who should have been ahead of them.  Then I get on the plane and NOBODY wants to sit next to ANYBODY- you walk down the aisle and get surly "well I guess you can sit next to me IF YOU MUST" looks.  Very awkward.

Assigned seating, Southwest.  It's not that hard.  Get on it, will you?  And until then, please tell me what the hell these people in your commercials are on, because I want a bottle of it myself.

Oh come down off your cross already!

So I guess everyone this woman knows is sick of her ignoring her nasty red rash which causes her to scratch, or maybe a little sick of her "it's a horrible skin disease that I insist on showing the world by wearing strapless dresses and scratching constantly but just ignore it it's ok" martyr bit.  So one of her friends responds to her "I'm suffering it's ok" drama queen act by whipping out a tablet and showing her a conveniently downloaded ad for Eczema Exposed, or something.

Clearly the friend has more than had enough of the whiny Not Suffering in Silence idiot who thinks that it's perfectly ok to suffer from ugly red itchy skin- and maybe even preferable to actually dealing with it if you can constantly blather about it to everyone you talk to.  She's got her tablet and she's letting the idiot know that there are these things called "doctors" who can offer other things called "treatments" so maybe she should get her tired butt and her played-to-death illness down to the nearest heath care facility and check it out.

Or stop fishing for sympathy like an overgrown baby.  Either way, the friend has put her foot down.  She- and everyone else this woman knows- is done with this nonsense.