It is not this: I derive enjoyment from Super Bowl commercials.

It is this: I do not derive enjoyment from what are essentially previews of these Super Bowl commercials.

A thirty-second spot of a product offering DOES NOT WARRANT a teaser! Not only is this (extra) commercial widely proliferated, it tells nothing of the product! It is advertising… an advertisement.

And just when I’d thought we’d scraped the bottom, it turns out there’s another barrel entirely.

Your Hyping of Your Hype Needs To Die

Photo Credits: Here

Nothing beats relaxing in style – and music can certainly help! So what could be better than taking tiny orbs connected by some thin cabling and JAMMING them in your ears to hear the sound? It’s a one-of-a-kind experience, of course! Just, try not to puncture an eardrum during all that. Wouldn’t want to damage the equipment, now would we?

Problem is, when you’re done with these small implants, what do you do with them? Unplug them from your device of choice and ball them up in some fashion, right? During that, you assume that it’s completely harmless – I mean, they’re just sitting there lazily, doing nothing of importance (much like a certain blog author who insists that he writes on a semi-daily basis)! What dilemma could they ever present?

The very next day, you arrive back at the fabled spot of electronic discard, ready to use these earpieces for another bout of stress-relieving. But lo! for this contraption now has more tangles than an adolescent girl’s bedhead! More mats than a shaggy dog’s fur! More ties than a successful businessman! More knots than a fast-moving sea vessel!

And so you take the next two, three, six minutes, assuming a role as a reverse Boy Scout, trying your darndest to get your gear back in working, streamlined order, thinking all the while that there must be a better way.

Come to think of it — why isn’t there one?

Let Tangled Earbuds Die

Photo Credits: Here

Thanks, Orbit gum. No, no, really.

Let Stylish Gum Packages Die

Photo Credits: Here

Your Cries for Information not Concerning You Need To Die.

Photo Credits: Here

(Sent from my phone using the Android WordPress app. Yes, I’m a bit of a hypocrite. It happens.)

Let This Extraordinarily Long-Titled Thing Die

“Ask not for whom the doorbell tolls – it tolls for thee.”

At least, some days it certainly seems like it. Are-you-sure-you-didn’t-order-a-pizza this, notice-proclaiming-that-your-package-can’t-be-delivered-until-you-pick-it-up-because-you-were-in-the-bathroom-at-the-time-of-the-delivery that…those instances can really ruin the flow of a day. Yet, these are not the worst random events that can wander their way on to your doorstep. The unnannounced guests take that top (or, rather, bottom) spot.

Panic mode. Not only do you have to try and appear peaceable to these intruders, but, for the lesser-backboned, simple entertaining duties become an additional chore. Would you like to imbibe some of my precious household resources? Sorry, that doesn’t come in “Diet”. And yes, I’d love to talk about your medical experiences involving sliding on a puddle of pus, but I really do need to finish this tax return. No, no, I don’t want help. And no, I can’t list you as a dependent.

At least there’s that overwhelming sense of relief when the offending party leaves. What’s unfortunate is that there shouldn’t have been any stress in the first place. So please, interested visitors to my and others’ abodes: Call first.

And if you track anything in, don’t make me clean it up.

Let Unexpected Visitors Die

Photo Credits: Here

Over my self-indulgent hibernation, I’ve been spending a lot of time with a smartphone that I happened to receive over Christmas. It’s a neat little device, and I’m constantly overwhelmed by all the intricacies of it and the Android OS. It’s entertaining, but it’s gotten me thinking about cell phones in general. 

I haven’t had mine long enough to fully conceptualize what I’m going to talk about (which really should say something about how fantastic a writer I am. No, no, please, your thanks are definitely not necessary). Heck, it still feels like an electric shock probes its way into my thigh whenever I get a text message. Thanks, vibrate mode.

However, for the cellularly-adept, the opposite problem seems to occur. “What’s that? Surely that was my phone; after all, people NEED me! I am their lifeblood! They want MY van’s candy! So let my open up this gadget real quick…” and BAM, nothing. Hopes are dashed and disappointment creeps in. Chalking it up as phantom noise, or a mistake in the phone, you go back to your regular duties.

If it only happened once, well, that would be fine. Actually, this process can repeat itself many times throughout the average day, causing a compounding effect with the hopes and disappointment. Especially when you’re really hoping to hear from someone. It’s frustrating, because the fault lies entirely with the device’s owner. The emotional-warhead side of it can aggravate, too. Appearing, at times, like you should spill acid in your ears in order to cleanse this mistaken sensory stimulation.

I can’t wait until I reach this stage. Trust me.

Everyone needs to feel wanted. Unfortunately, everyone wants to feel needed, too.

Let Sensing Your Cell Phone When It Hasn’t Gone Off Die

Photo Credits: Here

All I’m trying to get across is-yeah I got it.

No, you don’t, if you did you would be listening to the point I’m trying to mak-uh-huh.

Just listen a min-yeah.

DON’T TALK OV-Whatever, chillax.

ST-yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah.

Your Glibness, Used To Interrupt Someone, Needs To-right.

Photo Credits: Her-yessir.

In optimum lighting, it’s somewhat easy to tell apart black and navy blue, especially when the two colors are presented next to each other.

So, for reasons the world only knows, one most often must determine the color of such vestments in the early morning when one’s running late, in the dark, and is searching through that week’s “lightly used” pile of clothes that were supposed to be laundered days before. Eye-strain and mental worry overcome the subject, forcing them into quickly determining if socks, shoes, sirt, jacket, pants, belt, and other accessories match before heading out the door.

As the subject enters the workplace, he is ribbed, playfully smacked, jostled, and reprimanded. That’s right – he is all black and blue.

Let Black vs. Deep Navy Blue Die

Photo Credits: Here

Your Weird Cleaning Habits Need To Die

Photo Credits: Here