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This Is Why Outsource Jobs Overseas.

Since I now own two 20lb piranhas instead of just one, I find myself going through dog food twice as fast as I used to. So now instead of buying 20lb bags of my beloved Iams Lamb and Rice, I shoot for the 40lb bags. My usual sources are Petco, Pet Smart, and Target, depending on who's got what on sale; this past weekend it was Petco. They were hocking a 44lb bag for $38.99, or $35.99 with the Petco card, which I have. So I grab that and a $9 bottle of medicated shampoo because Bianca has wicked bad skin allergies. The bill comes up to just under $51 and I mindlessly swipe my debit card through, get my receipt and head for the door. My foot just hits the threshold and a lightbulb comes on; $51 wasn't quite right. I glance down at the receipt and sure enough, I was charged $38.99 for the dog food. Instantly a little devil appears on one shoulder, and a little angel on the other. "It's three bucks," the Devil whispered in my ear, "you've got better shit to do than turn around and go through this hassle for three measly bucks." I curled my lip under my nose, because the Devil had a point. "Remember what Judy Tibbets said back when you first started at FCP, 'watch your pennies and your dollars will watch themselves.' Besides," the Angel cooed in my ear, "there's a Dunkin Donuts right around the corner and you can use that three bucks for an iced coffee." I looked over at the Devil who looked down and sheepishly kicked my collar, "That's cool, I like iced coffee."

And so, against my better judgement and against everything I have stood for over the last five hundred years, I turned around to get my three bucks back. Little did I know what an orgy of mathematical fuckery was in store for me.

The clerk whose line I just went through saw me come back in and as I was holding my receipt in my hand, made the correct assumption there was something wrong with my purchase. She was a girl of about twenty, brunette hair, pierced nose, and needed to lay off the late night snacking a little bit. I waited for her to finish checking out the customer who just seconds before was behind me in line, and then handed her my receipt. I explained the pricing mixup on the dog food -- $38.99 for schmucks off the street but $35.99 for those of us who were the Petco PALs elite. She first explained that she would have to go into the back and verify for herself that the dog food was priced as I said it was. As if I run some international fucking crime syndicate, stealing $3 at a fucking time from unsuspecting pet stores. But knowing she's just a worker bee and probably has a collection of stupid rules she has to follow, I politely smile and say, "no problem." Boy was I fucking wrong. A few minutes later, Chubby gets back from her recon mission and agrees that yes, the Iams should have been $35.99. A slight wave of vindication inexplicably washes over me and I figure we're almost done here. In a few seconds, she's going to pop open her drawer and hand me my $3 -- well, technically $3.18 thanks to the State of Florida, and I'll be on my way. Done, right? Thirty second transaction, right? Fat. Fucking. Chance.

Whether the simple $3 refund was beyond this girl's mental skill set or if there was no option to do this at the register, I do not know. What I do know is that before I could say or do anything, she scans the bag of dog food and asks me to sign a refund slip for $38.99. Okay. A little puzzled, I do. Next she re-rings in the dog food -- having me hold it up so she could scan it again -- and it rings up at $38.99. She tries to modify the price, but is not allowed to. So she flips on the blinking light at the top of her glowing "REGISTER 2" lamp, and we have to wait for Mr Manager. I knew better; I fucking knew better than to bother with this shit. This was the first point where I wish someone would walk by and stuff three $1 bills up my ass and put me out of my misery. Unfortunately no one does, but after a five minute wait and several huffs later, Mr Manager does indeed show up and sets the correct price. Great. Chubby rings me up again, and the total is a $38.15 with taxes. Now. Since she processed the refund just for the original purchase price ($38.99) and not the price after tax ($41.33) it cost me ten minutes of my fucking life to save $0.84 fucking cents. I realized this halfway through this clusterfuck but since I had seen what trouble I had caused by asking for my $3 back, there was no fucking way I was going to raise this issue and further complicate our already bizarre transaction. At this point, I feel like a complete dickhead and just want someone to beat me to fucking death with my 44lb bag of dog food. I slide my card, pay the fucking bill and make a run for it.

The end result is this. I left Petco very angry and reminded on why it's not worth my fucking time to dispute errors that only amount to a few fucking dollars. Yes, that fucking abortion turned out exactly how I predicted it would. Once I dropped the dog food off in my car, the Devil and I then took the Angel out back and took turns kicking him in his angelic little balls. FUCK YOU, PETCO.

Well, at least my weekend wasn't that bad. This is a re-imagined Donald Duck cartoon remix constructed using dozens of classic Walt Disney cartoons from the 1930s to 1960s. Donald's life is turned upside-down by the current economic crisis and he finds himself unemployed and falling behind on his house payments. As his frustration turns into despair Donald discovers a seemingly sympathetic voice coming from his radio, named Glenn Beck.

But I did think these pictures were cool until I realized that most of the vacant neighborhoods were in my neck of the woods. In fact, #5 is about three miles from my house: "A couple weeks ago, I was listening to a story by NPR's Planet Money team about "Toxie" a toxic asset they had purchased to follow and help tell the story of the recent financial meltdown. One of the mortgages in Toxie was on a home bought for investment in Bradenton, Florida, and the team took a look at housing in the area. Many homes there are empty and have been for years. Huge developments sit partially completed among densely built up neighborhoods and swampland. A guest stated that there were "enough housing lots in Charlotte County to last for more than 100 years". Boom and bust residential development has drastically affected parts of southwest Florida for decades now, and I spent some time (with the help of Google Earth), looking around the area. With permission from the fine folks at Google, here are a few glimpses at development in southwest Florida."

Over the years there have been many sex symbols who have been associated with sports. They have been the athletes themselves, wives, reporters or even fans. Some of these women have boldly bared it all on the pages of men's magazines, while others have simply maintained their appeal by refusing to appear in the nude. Who has been on Playboy and who hasn't? You'll find out soon enough.

James Dean, Kurt Cobain, Heath Ledger. Celebrities are often well-known for their short, drug-addled lives on the edge. They live fast and die young. They’re too fast to live and too young to die. They are... well actually there aren’t any cliches left. Long story short, they are filthy rich people who live in a world full of drugs, largely devoid of consequences. Like infants set loose on a floor of broken glass, anti-freeze and exposed outlets, they often live on the edge of death by stupidity and substance abuse. Be it drugs, alcohol, excessive plastic surgery or other such heinously unnatural things as old age, some have been scooting closer than others.

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old and busted: dora the explorer. the new hotness: dora the conquista.