Need to build your Springsteen-meets-Garden-State playlist to mellow out to while waiting in an empty airport on a cloudy fall day? Yes? Then check out Coco et Co. Listen to “Slow Dance” first.
The album is five bucks for eight songs.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Foiled again!
This morning I wanted to make some changes to my car insurance policy online. Coincidentally, a tsunami was headed toward Hawaii. My genius insurance company spotted my genius plan a mile away:
Three things: (1) the people at my insurance company are apparently very good at what they do; (2) I appreciate them taking time to properly work out the spelling for "a(n) hurricane"; and (3) does their Auto Reply vocabulary insert "hurricane" in the place of "any possible freak disaster that might cost us money"? Would an asteroid shower or alien invasion prompt the same message?
"We're sorry. We're unable to process your request.
This policy change is temporarily restricted due to a(n) hurricane in Hawaii. Please try back later. If you would like to change your liability coverages, or add a vehicle with liability coverage only, we can assist by phone."
Three things: (1) the people at my insurance company are apparently very good at what they do; (2) I appreciate them taking time to properly work out the spelling for "a(n) hurricane"; and (3) does their Auto Reply vocabulary insert "hurricane" in the place of "any possible freak disaster that might cost us money"? Would an asteroid shower or alien invasion prompt the same message?
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The year 2010, in which I fight the battle of the cockroaches -- and win!
For any of you mainland types with your "seasonal changes" and occasional "freezing temperatures" you might be wholly unaware that parts of this planet are under continuous attack from cowardly, sinister foes, none more sinister than the dreaded Periplaneta americana. Seemingly overnight, the populations inside, underneath, and around my house have reached levels somewhere between totally gross and nightmarish. I had resolved to live in peace with them so long as they stayed mostly out of sight, but they pushed the boundaries of our truce and began showing up in the middle of dinner parties, or while quietly watching sitcoms on Hulu, waltzing casually across the living room floor just to show us that we are pansies and they neither fear nor respect us. Or maybe the every increasing size and numbers was pushing them recklessly out into the world. Ordinarily an insect lover, I knew I had no choice but to get my bug-hate on, or before too long these meter-long things would lift me bodily from my bed whilst I slept, take over the lease on my house, and kick me out to the streets where I would roam forever with the stray cats of Honolulu. (And these cats.....not such a good crowd to run with.)
I summoned all my powers. I would be satisfied with nothing short of complete extermination. First, the supplies: I looted ever home improvement store for miles, loading entire aisles of their most deadly poisonous stuffs into the back of my truck. Then, the attack: I waited until dark, suited up in Tyvek and night-vision goggles, and embarked on a caffeine-fueled rampage that made "shock and awe" look like "Sunday-morning-walk-in-the-park-with-a-puppy-and-an-ice-cream-cone". My trigger finger never once cramped up as I unloaded aerosol can after aerosol can upon the teaming hoards. A fuming, toxic soup of OrthoKillRaidMaxXxtreme soon sloshed around and under our abode. I ignored the visibly dissolving concrete footings of our house and, cackling maniacally, mocked the vile creatures while they, caught off-guard, staggered about blindly, inhaling cruel, nerve-shredding gases, finally admitting defeat, each one carefully, painfully folding in legs and wings, turning over, and ending its despicable existence upside-down. Later, the neighbors would recount stories of a crazed lunatic with superhuman endurance fighting what seemed an unbeatable foe, nay triumphing when others would have surely run screaming in fear. I say simply, I did what I had to do.
This morning's paper tells of strange happenings at the port of Honolulu; of an entire city's worth of roach-bugs scrambling to the harbor, chartering a cruise liner, and heading out to sea, some say to Cancun, others Hong Kong, but nobody really knows. In restaurants, markets, and homes across the island, not a scurvy little bug remains to be seen. Apparently, word has gotten out island-wide. The vile insects everywhere live in fear of a recurrence of the madness that was Roach Fest 2010. You're welcome!
I summoned all my powers. I would be satisfied with nothing short of complete extermination. First, the supplies: I looted ever home improvement store for miles, loading entire aisles of their most deadly poisonous stuffs into the back of my truck. Then, the attack: I waited until dark, suited up in Tyvek and night-vision goggles, and embarked on a caffeine-fueled rampage that made "shock and awe" look like "Sunday-morning-walk-in-the-park-with-a-puppy-and-an-ice-cream-cone". My trigger finger never once cramped up as I unloaded aerosol can after aerosol can upon the teaming hoards. A fuming, toxic soup of OrthoKillRaidMaxXxtreme soon sloshed around and under our abode. I ignored the visibly dissolving concrete footings of our house and, cackling maniacally, mocked the vile creatures while they, caught off-guard, staggered about blindly, inhaling cruel, nerve-shredding gases, finally admitting defeat, each one carefully, painfully folding in legs and wings, turning over, and ending its despicable existence upside-down. Later, the neighbors would recount stories of a crazed lunatic with superhuman endurance fighting what seemed an unbeatable foe, nay triumphing when others would have surely run screaming in fear. I say simply, I did what I had to do.
This morning's paper tells of strange happenings at the port of Honolulu; of an entire city's worth of roach-bugs scrambling to the harbor, chartering a cruise liner, and heading out to sea, some say to Cancun, others Hong Kong, but nobody really knows. In restaurants, markets, and homes across the island, not a scurvy little bug remains to be seen. Apparently, word has gotten out island-wide. The vile insects everywhere live in fear of a recurrence of the madness that was Roach Fest 2010. You're welcome!
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