April 29th, 2004

Self-Portrait 3


... I go to check my mail this afternoon, like I usually do, and there's a package pickup slip in my box. 'Sweet action,' says I. 'It's my uncut version of Drive that I ordered off Ebay last week.' I head up to the counter in the post office hoping the disc is all-region coded as promised, and that I'll be able to get my 4-year old RCA to play it.

I give the woman at the counter my slip, after a short wait behind a family of three that included a lithe and eerily pretty blonde-haired blue-eyed 12-year-old who seemed to take no end of delight in riding on the back of her father's motorized wheelchair. But instead of bringing me my DVD, the counter clerk returns with a square silver tin, an inch thick and just shy of five inches on a side. The lablel on the front (actually the back) of it says in the return address spot "MARLBORO Attn:Special Returns 3357-H Southpark Place Grove City, OH 43123". Below that is my name and address, and below that "LIGHTER FOR CIGARETTES SURFACE MAIL ONLY TO647".

And so my keen powers of deduction lead me to believe it's a lighter. Problem is, I don't have clue one where it came from. I don't smoke Marlboros. I never have, even back when I was a smoker; they taste terrible.

Hurm. I suppose the only thing that's left to do now is open it and see exactly what's inside. There's a pretty good heft to it, all things considered. It could easily be a bomb. Here's hoping it isn't.
  • Current Mood
    curious curious
Self-Portrait 3

(no subject)

-- In the "not nearly as exciting as I'd hoped" category, what it ended up being was a disposable bic, in some sort of metal sleeve with a silvery/pewter finish and a star embossed on one side. There's a card with it that says "A real friend never tries to steal your thunder. Your lighter, that's a different story. Here's a little something to hang on to. Happy birthday from Marlboro." So basically what it is, is a "We haven't managed to kill you yet. Cheers, mate. Here's something to fancy up your cheapass bic." from the people at Marlboro.

I can only assume that I sent away for a sample pack of smokes from them at some point in my misspent youth, which would neatly explain exactly why they know (about. They're a bit early.) when my birthday is. I can't recall them ever sending me a present, tho'.

-- Also, I bought a hat. And a lavender heart-shaped tin that says "LET'S KISS" on the lid. Because I felt like it, that's why.
Self-Portrait 3

(no subject)

I've managed to worm my way into the Beta for the google email, and I must say I am not impressed. Sure, it's got all the hotshit new stuff like a gig of storage space and a search function, but unless I'm completely stupid, there's no way to send an email to a bunch of different people without manually entering in all their different email addresses. We're talking about a very basic component of email here: Select a bunch of people from your address book, send them all the same message. It's like making a pen that releases soothing aromatherapy and has a vibrating massager built into the grip, but it doesn't write. FAIL.