Today, I underwent the shopping equivalent of a full-body cavity search - buying printer cartridges.
I'm one of these lucky people who has a printer with 6 cartridges - 5 color and 1 black, which they tell me is a color. That's like "off" listed as a blender speed - but I digress. The bastards are less than a half-inch wide and probably hold a teaspoon of ink. If I print 3 CDs and a concert ticket I'm off to Staples for more ink. It's a scam, I tell ya.
The cartridges come in vacuum-sealed plastic bags, like they're going into space or something. If that isn't bad enough, I took the recently emptied cartridges to Staples to have them recycled, and the kid at the counter told me "We don't take Epson," like the ink was made from radium or something. When I asked him why, of course he didn't know. Somebody from Staples, leave a comment and tell me why. I'm losing sleep here.
Then, I took the car for a bath. The thing that fascinates me about the automated car was is that (a) the kid that drives the car the twelve feet from the jet blowers to the end of the driveway has to move the seat and (b) when I get in, the car smelled like the kid who drove the car twelve feet. It's the Seinfeld valet B.O. episode. I'm driving around now in a car that smells like a car wash attendant. I don't know what I have to do to get that smell out. Maybe I'll let the cat sit in there for a half hour? I'd rather the car smelled like him.
Usually, I don't like to move the car on the weekends, but I've found that I can't take it to be washed if I don't move it out of the parking lot. I think this is the first weekend in 6 months that I drove the car both days.
Last night a friend treated me to an Alice Cooper show in Atlantic City. I looked it up. Alice is 60 years old, which I figure roughly equals the combined age of the other members of his band. The show was OK. He has a lot of new material, but he played the old songs too, although they had that modern grunge/distorted guitar/wall of sound deal that modern guitar players seem to like. One of them changed guitars on every song, which I thought was either showing off or just plain silly. From the viewpoint of a former player, I'd guess it was showing off.
It wasn't the greatest show I've ever seen, but I did find the part where he slaps a woman around for 6 minutes a little uncomfortable. It turns out it's his daughter, which doesn't make it right, but at least he's keeping the brutality in the family. When I found out the tickets were $57, I might have changed my opinion. I guess Alice charges by the year.
Meanwhile, here's a little video entertainment for you. It's the Wednesday post-game celebration in Philadelphia after the Phillies won the championship. A young fan discovers the peril of climbing on traffic lights.