April 21, 2011
Before I even begin tonight I want to write about an email I got tonight that really bugged the everloving shit out of me.
I get tons of spam email. And I really don’t mind most of it. Here’s one I got earlier in the evening from a certain, fj.becker. It starts off with the enticing subject of: “Good evening darling,” And then when I opened it up I was presented with this message and clickable link:
When you read it, it’s almost like some sort of kooky, free-form poetry. Look at it in a normal text and grammar setting:
Sandwich...
Watch big dicks fuck the tiny sluts so hard!
Mysterious...hides...
Flies into a rage!
Guardian angels cab driver...
Not too bad, huh? Shit, I might get some tea-shades, a black beret and some bongos and start a whole new career. Swing, baby...swing!
Anyway, the point I’m trying to make here is that your run of the mill porn/Viagra/heir to a fortune emails don’t bother me in the least. I find a good chunk of them entertaining. But then every now and again you get one that seems innocuous at first, but then gets under your skin quicker than a wood shaving while walking barefoot on Coney Island's boardwalk. Here’s the one I’m talking about:
I hate the way this thing starts off with: “Guess what, Martin?” And then they tell you the answer before you can even guess! It’s like asking you a riddle and then not giving you time to try and answer it. It would’ve been a cool marketing ploy to start off with, “Guess what, Martin?...(we’ll let you know in an email in an hour, till then, have fun guessing what we’re going to email you!)”
That would have been fun and I would’ve been guessing right up to the moment I got the email back in the following hour. What in the world were they sending me? Maybe a picture of a basket of radioactive puppies with eyeballs blazing in the color of electric Cheez Whiz! Maybe it would be a photo album of tiny sluts getting fucked by big dicks really hard. Perhaps an offering of a glass swizzle stick emblazoned with a tiny etching of Michael Nesmith.
But I had no fun guessing, because they told me one space later. And I received this lame-ass offer because I bought my dad a bathrobe for Christmas from RedEnvelope (it was monogrammed, I’m no cheapskate!) And that purchase allows me entry into an exclusive club of lucky charmers who get 15% off baskets of chocolate covered strawberries from some god-forsaken place called Shari’s Berries.
Oh Shari, first off thank’s so much for that Steve Perry moment. I had forgotten all about that fucking song and now it’s going to be stuck in my head along with this one. Great.
Secondly, I’m highly suspicious that this “Shari” person even exists. It’s just too much of a coincidence that her name rhymes with the item she’s selling online. Shari’s probably some fat, unshaven slob named Lou from Newark, New Jersey who buys vats of strawberries and chocolate at Costco and then sells them online at inflated prices. He probably smells like he’s been marinating in pastrami, Yoo-hoo chocolate drink and out-of-date Aqua Velva for the last fortnight or three.
And speaking of inflated prices, this majestic “deal” that they’re offering me is six chocolate covered strawberries for $24.99! What the fuck kind of mind-blowing, bizarro “deal” is that? That’s over four dollars a strawberry! And I don’t even like strawberries. And the fact that they’re covered in chocolate is making my skin crawl. And yeah, I know I blew 41 bucks on one drink last night, but at least that thing had about a half a pint of gin in it. All you’re going to get from these things are probably a bad case of the hives.
And Shari is not only trying to rip me off with her exorbitantly high-priced berries, she’s condescending as all hell! Check out this line: “Delight family and friends with a Half Dozen Dipped Fancy Berries.” Yeah, as if my family and friends are such low-life, wild and wooly knuckle-draggers that they’d be simply delighted by the chance to have their very own chocolate covered strawberry. What are you going to try and sell me next Shari? Shiny colored beads that sparkle when light hits them?
And the icing on the over-priced strawberry is this line: “Order today, before it’s too late!”
Too late for what? What, if I don’t order right now something horrific is going to happen? Are animals going to start spontaneously exploding, killing farmers and small children in their bloody, fur-flying wake? Is Armageddon going to reign down from the heavens above because I didn’t buy your four dollar berries? I can just see tomorrow’s headline in the NY Post now:
I’m sorry Shari, I’m going to hit delete now and get rid of your despicable offer as I’ve got other pressing things to attend to. There’s tiny sluts being fucked really hard by big dicks on the internet right now for God’s sake and I don’t want to miss out on that shit!
Okay, tonight’s going to be kind of a simple one, because I’m beat. I was out late last night and didn’t get much sleep and I'm tired. I just thought we’d go over to Penn Station and fuck around.
And here we are. I thought we'd enter from the back of the station tonight, I'm sick of taking pictures of the front of it.
Everyone's stationary on the escalator, nice!
I think this is a mobile art piece called, "A Blast From The Past."
(Joke that only EV Grieve readers will get alert!) There's an angry mob from the East Village protesting the hot chicks in this window.
Let's see what's happening in the Duane Reade store.
There's the Easter stuff, let's go check it out.
Wow, look at all the Easter goodies.
These Easter lambs are sniffing each others chocolate asses. That's kind of gross.
Easter grass, how appropriate, seeing as I'm taking this picture on 4/20.
I thought I'd check out the magazine section. If this woman is trying to look hot, she should try to put on more clothing. She looks a little chilly in this shot.
The greeting card aisle! Let's check out the wholesome humor that these cards always bring.
What kind of card is this doing here? Children could see it!
This is just vulgar! What kind of cards are these?
While I agree with the sentiment here, I don't know if it belongs on a greeting card!
Now this is just too much! Date rape is nothing to be laughing about! Outrageous! I'm going to go home and write a letter to Duane Reade about this! It's just sickening!
Ah, home sweet home! I think I'll have a beer before I write my letter to Duane Reade.
AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Further reading: Culture Vulture, BRB, Owned and Fail.
You also might like: Exploding Rabbit, Exploding Toads and Big Jim McBob and Billie Sol Hurok.
Half a Dozen Sluts
Reality Sluts
Co-ed Prison Sluts
Red-Headed Slut
Slut Soup
Bret Michaels
Mary Magdalene
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