Category: blogging
THOR’s Day Rant: Does Anyone Really Win?
Written by Troglodad
Thursday, 16 April 2009 14:09
3 Comments

I’m a sucker for online contests. I enter them all the time. Despite the fact I never win anything. And every time I lose, even though I fully expected it, I get mad. Then I begin to wonder- was any prize really given out?

My obsession with drawings started back in the 1980s, when a local car parts store was giving away a brand new Ford Ranger pickup truck. Entries were accepted at the store, by filling out a slip and putting it in a box, or by writing your information on a 3×5 business card. I opted for the latter. 658 times.

Yes, I actually sat at home and filled out 658 entries. I took them to the store and dropped them into the box slot in packs of 30 or so. It took awhile.

Looking back on it, I see that it was a colossal waste of time. More than likely, when that box was emptied, someone saw all those cards, probably stuck together, and took a bunch out.

After years of losing in virtually every contest I ever entered, I was about to give up when I stumbled across online entries. Lots of them. Never again would I have to hand write hundreds of entries. Better still, a lot of the contests have grand, first and second prizes.

And while I could be one of a hundred owners of a free t-shirt, there have been some pretty good grand prizes to lure me in. I particularly was interested in the special-edition Corvette given away as a Speed Racer (the movie) promotion. I knew I wouldn’t win- not even a poster- but I was really interested in seeing more pictures of the car. I was very crushed when I neither won nor was able to find anything out about the car.

You’d think that after all these years, I wouldn’t be disappointed when I fail to win a contest. But I am. One of the most disappointing was at Engadget.com. Instead of randomly drawing entries to determine a winner, they had a contest where you took a picture of your broke-down entertainment system. The most pathetic excuse for a home theater won a brand-spanking new home theater. I took my picture of my actual lame-o basement set up, titled "Daddy's 2×4 theater" and sent it in. I didn’t win.

In the Engadget case, I got to see the winner’s entry, but I waited and expected to see the winner send in a photo of the new stuff  once it was up and running. If I couldn’t win, at least I could live vicariously, ever-so-briefly, through their good fortune. And since they had the ability to send a picture in to enter the contest, it shouldn’t be too hard to send in an update.

But no.

In fact, it seems pretty near impossible to find any stories online of winners proudly displaying their loot. There are websites telling us poor schmucks how awful it is to win the lottery- showing the bad luck that has befallen lotto winners. But I can’t seem to find any sites sharing the goodness of a lucky win.

Why?

Especially in the case of contests where you have to send in an entry- how damn hard would it be to send in a thank you note later, maybe with a picture or two? People write reviews of products they buy, why not something you got for free? You’d think in all the thousands upon thousands of contests run year round, there would be somebody who would want to share.

This makes me wonder- is anyone really winning? I know most contests let you send off for a list of winners names. But that's just a name. I could get names out of a phone book.  I want to hear from the winner. I want a frickin’ testimonial about how great the prize they beat me out of is. Is that so much to ask? I’m not going to be mad at the winner. And I’m not asking them to post their address so some burglars can come clean them out. I just want something to pick me up out of the funk of losing.

Take Burn Notice’s annual contest. This great spy show on the USA network has given away 2 Saab convertibles now. You know, if I ever won a frickin’ car, I’d take a blue-million pictures of it. I’d pose the car to match scenes from the show. I’d do a whole virtual tour of the thing. Not to brag, but to share the fun of having won something.

Maybe it’s because I’m a giver. Literally. The only thing I have ever won in my life was an autographed basketball. It was at a charity event at Indiana University Southeast. I won a basketball signed by Bobby Knight and the whole IU coaching staff from that year. Ironically, I don’t like basketball.

That basketball sat in my closet, went with me all the way to Germany when I was stationed overseas. I didn’t display it or anything, I just liked keeping it around because it’s the only time I’ve ever won anything. But one day, I was talking with a friend of mine, and he was mentioning how he wished he could have bought one of the pieces of the IU basketball court when they redid it. Here was a diehard IU fan, who regularly wore IU logos, never missed a game, and absolutely loved the sport. He didn’t have a autographed basketball.

So I gave him mine.

Now, if I can give away the only damn thing I’ve ever won, can’t you ingrates that win prizes in online contests at least have the courtesy to share a word or two about your good luck? Can’t you help make the rest of us feel good for you, instead of moping that we lost, AGAIN?

I’m starting to think most of these contests are all a bunch of hooey. Like the guest questionnaires stores like Target and Home Depot put on the bottom of their receipts. Answer some questions and get entered in a chance to win a shopping spree. Yeah. Right. Show me someone who has actually won.

I’d give up at this point, but like any addiction, I can’t shake it. I just keep entering these stupid contests. And losing.

 
THOR’s DAY RANT: Wash Your Damned Hands!
Written by Troglodad
Thursday, 02 April 2009 10:45
4 Comments

As I cough and hack and wheeze and otherwise feel like complete crap- or bantha poodoo if you’re a Star Wars geek- I feel compelled to discuss something you all should know already.

Wash your damned hands.

Last week, I had the joy of taking my 9 year old daughter around to various local museums and attractions as a treat for Spring Break- at her age she doesn’t need to go to Florida. As we toured such wonderful sites as the Louisville Science Center, I started getting my germaphobe on.

I’m not normally a germaphobe. Heck, I cough and sneeze many times at home without covering my mouth. I often follow the five second rule when a chip, M&M or blood pressure pill drops to my floor. And I like to age my leftovers for as long as a week. But that’s at home.

Last year, Kroger’s grocery stores added this swell new customer service gag- disinfectant wipes by the shopping carts. Yup, now when you start Krogering, you can first wipe down the slimey grip-rail on the shopping carts. Especially nice since Kroger carts often serve as bird poop catchers as they loiter in the parking lot for hours.

But despite the sheer thoughtfulness of Kroger’s, they have made me a germaphobe. Because now, everywhere I go, I look suspiciously at hand rails and other, touchable things with a bit of apprehension, wishing for a disinfectant wipe. I frequently find myself avoiding the use of handrails, and wince when I have to open doors by pulling on handles or doorknobs.

Take the Louisville Science Center, for example.

I know things are tough, financially, for the City of Louisville, but would it hurt to do a little thorough cleaning of the exhibits? I’m talking the kind of down-on-your-hands-and-knees, tooth-brush-polishing cleaning we did in basic training. Cleaning that kills all germs, and erases their memory. Instead of this sub-molecular cleaning, the Science Center radiates a grimey, used dirtiness that is quit repulsive. I sure as heck wouldn’t test the five second rule there. I wouldn’t even eat a sandwich while walking among the exhibits. A drink from a canteen might even be pushing it. Aw, heck, some exhibits look so bad, I secretly wish for a filter mask.

Where does all this filth come from? From people like you. Yes, you- the guys and gals that go to public restrooms and don’t wash their hands after expelling bodily wastes. The folks who hack, cough and sneeze, covering their mouths (thanks) then grab door knobs or handrails (no thanks). You people are disgusting. And inconsiderate.

I can’t tell you the times I’ve been in a public bathroom and have seen a man come out of a stall and walk past the sinks like they were bright pink and covered with doilies. Egads, man! When you’re done dropping loads, you need to wash those hands! And I know it’s relatively easy to avoid urinating on one’s self in the bathroom, but again, when you're done, WASH YOUR DAMNED HANDS!

And this isn’t just a guy thing. I hear from the ladies, too. My co-workers share chatter amongst themselves- a tad too loudly- when they see a fellow female forego some basic hygiene. My wife feels compelled to share with me her own germ sightings. Folks, if your hands aren’t clean enough to lick like they’re covered in the grease from some tasty Kentucky Fried Chicken, they need to be washed!

Why am I harping about this now? Like some angry mother? Well, it’s because I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason I’m sick this week is the exposure to every known germ in the Louisville Metropolitan area last week. Movie Theaters, Science Centers, Museums, they all were swarming with happy, never-seen-soap germs, clinging to surfaces you filthy, disgusting soapaphobes touched. Thank goodness my kids, who have to touch everything, didn’t get sick. Unfortunately, neither is old enough to do much more than make me a sandwich or fetch me a blanket.

So when I’m home feeling sick, listening to the wife lamenting she’s sick also (and therefore can’t take care of me), I’ll be thinking of you nasty dastards. Thinking and waiting. Mwuhahahahahahahahaha.

(Note to self, cut back on the cough drops)

 
Kilroy Says: The Day I Broke Up With Wendy
Written by Kilroy
Wednesday, 01 April 2009 18:15
16 Comments
For many years, the love of my life was Wendy, with her cute little pigtails and the smell wafting from her that I could only describe as heavenly. But sadly, the time recently came for us to part ways. Wendy has been letting herself go these past few years. She’s not that clean anymore. She’s greasy. She is just, well, run-down looking. Oh sure, she still has great buns, but that’s not enough. With great regret, I’ve had to leave Wendy behind, for Five Guys.
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I’m talking about cheeseburgers, of course.

What could be better than the cheeseburger? It has the meat group, bread group, and dairy group all in one nice package. For those of you that are health conscious, you can always slap on a salad- but I think that taints the heady flavor of roasted cow flesh (or buffalo or any other grazing animal). Throw in a side of fries for your daily vegetable helping, and you’re set.

Wendy’s restaurant was my most beloved restaurant for many years. Those delicious triple cheeseburgers, dripping with extra cheese, a side of fries and a chocolate Frosty was truly my favorite meal. I could eat it everyday- although I would probably drop dead in only a few weeks. Anything that tastes that good can’t be good for you.

But ever since the food genius Dave Thomas passed away, Wendy’s has begun deteriorating. Where the burgers were once cooked to greasy, sizzling perfection in his lifetime, there have been times since his passing when my burger tasted a little… rare. Gone is the delicious saltiness. And where once I could swear I was tasting the savory goodness of what surely must have been steroids injected into the cows prior to slaughter, lately all I taste is something that must be freezer burn.

Wendy’s also began to get complicated. When I order a "Frosty" I don’t want to be asked what flavor I want. I want a damned Frosty. Do I get asked what flavor Coke I want? (They still make Cherry and Vanilla Coke, you know). And what’s with all the fancy schmancy sandwiches added to the menu? There should be three, and exactly three, choices of sandwich: Single, Double and Triple.

Despite the degradation of my most beloved place away from home, my spirits have been recently uplifted. There’s a new Burger Sheriff in town- actually, they’re more of a posse. And I pledge my loyalty for as long as my wallet, and heart, can take their savory goodness.

Five Guys (Burger and Fries) has come to Southern Indiana.

At first glance, I was a little worried to be eating at "Five Guys." They got their start in Washington D.C., where just about everything is screwed up. But, I guess working to please the most crooked, twisted, screwed up bunch of nincompoops on the planet is a good way to master the Burger.

When you walk into a Five Guys, you’ll notice right off it’s clean. Okay, maybe the two I have begun frequenting are, because they’re new. Time will tell. Next up, you’ll see stacks of fresh, boxed potatoes. That’s because they claim to use only fresh potatoes, fried in peanut oil. They also claim their hamburger never hits the freezer. It’s fresh and refrigerated, never frozen.

On the way to the counter, you’ll notice boxes of un-shelled peanuts out for your consumption. Right there they get points from me. I get to eat while I wait to eat? Man, that’s just like at home, where I’m gnawing on chips or cheese or something, while I man my trusty Weber grill.

By the time you hit the counter, you’ve noticed two other things. The price and the simplicity of the menu. Five Guys makes burgers, kosher hot dogs and grilled cheese sandwiches. No chicken. No salads. And they charge a lot for this wonderful food. More even than Wendy’s. But the price is worth it.

When you get your cheeseburger- dressed however you choose- it’s been cooked well done, and is wrapped in plain foil. Not a paper wrapper or a plastic box. Nope, good old aluminum foil, like you’d have on a picnic. Flavor nor heat will be escaping this burger before you shovel it into your mouth. And the fries? Mmmm. Delicious steak fries, served in a styrofoam cup. And then, they throw some extra fries in the bag, like tinsel sprinkled on a Christmas tree, after the decorations are hung.

I’ll also note that if you order a bacon cheeseburger, the bacon is nice and crispy- not some limp, heated-with-a-hair-dryer strip of rubbery bacon. It crunches and is packed with salty flavor.

I’ll admit that Five Guys is lacking milkshakes on their menu. A juicy bacon cheeseburger with fries is great. But throw in a milkshake, and it’s a feast. At least Five Guys offers free refills to make up for this chilled dairy product bigotry.

By the time you leave a Five Guys, your wallet will be thinner, as though you’ve paid for twice the food you got. But that is fair, since the quality is more than twice as good as anywhere else.

I guess in the future, I’ll still drive by Wendy’s, to see how she’s doing. She does still have Frosties and a drive-thru. She’ll always hold a special place in my heart, but Five Guys has earned a place in my stomach.

Wendy, if you ever get yourself straightened out, call me. I'll be at Five Guys.