For those of you following along at home, I’ve posted another Amazon review. This is for the Sodastream, a seltzer maker. It is my second favorite kitchen “thingy”, after the toaster. I am, in fact, enjoying a delicious glass of seltzer right now. And in about two seconds, I will spill the seltzer all over the rug, but that’s OK because it’ll get all the wine stains out. LIFE IS A BEAUTIFUL CIRCLE. LOOK HOW BEAUTIFUL AND ROUND IT IS. NOT UNLIKE A CIRCLE.
On Amazon you can rate if a review was “helpful”. You can click yes or no. I guess the idea is that “the crowd” will determine what reviews bubble up to the top in order to reach the maximum number of shoppers. Now I’d like to point out that for my review of the taco pocket pouch, 167 out of 174 people found it helpful. This means that SEVEN people found it UNhelpful. They took the time to read my review of a POUCH THAT LOOKS LIKE A TACO and said, nope, this review wasn’t helpful-–it did not have the details I needed to make an informed decision about buying this FIVE DOLLAR novelty that, just to review, LOOKS LIKE A TACO. These seven people took the time to read and think and then click “no, not helpful.” But you know what’s even more amazing than this? That 167 actually found the review HELPFUL. A part of me hopes that 167 people bought the taco pouch after reading my review, but I think that the company didn’t even make 167 of them. I mean let’s be honest here, five people actually want this, and one of them has it already. (Hint: it’s me.) (Obviously.)
Every weekend, someone in my neighborhood straps on his guitar, faces his amp out the window, and lets it rip on full crank. He sounds like one part Ted Nugent and all parts suck. It’s awful. It’s like this faux classic rock wail that makes you feel sad. His guitar deserves better. It deserves a person who respects music and also respects NEIGHBORS, specifically ME. No one wants to hear someone’s music unless they are actively paying for that person’s music, say, at a concert, or if that person is famous, say, a person who is not my neighbor. Like if I lived next door to Eric Clapton, I’m sure I’d be ok listening to him play, even though I don’t particularly care for Clapton. (Here is where everyone goes awww come on, the Yardbirds? And to that I say, I still don’t like him and Clapton wouldn’t be living in this drafty-ass, pre-war building, just saying). But this guy is no Eric Clapton. He’s not even Eric Carmen.
I can’t figure out where the music is coming from, but I actually think it’s from a building down the street. Down the street! As in, a hundred yards away from me! What must that sound like to his real neighbors? Actually, the same: One part Ted Nugent and all parts suck. Anyway, my point is that this guy’s amp must be insane, which leads me to my latest Amazon review.
Frosting ruins everything. Like here’s this nice piece of cake and then someone slathers all this crap on it and then fashions it into little roses and hearts and stars and princesses or whatever the fuck and then I have to scrape it all off and dump it into the trash or find a six year old to eat it for me. All this means I have to spend five minutes defrosting my goddamn cake instead of eating it. This is why I don’t like cake. I see cake and all I see is work. No one should work for dessert. The whole point of dessert is that it arrives to you, ready to be enjoyed, because you deserve it. You worked hard this week! You sent some emails and went the gym once! You ate a salad! You earned some motherfucking dessert! But then you get cake and suddenly it’s like someone took a shit on your dessert. Sorry to be graphic, wait no, I’m not sorry. I hate you, frosting. Go away.
The point is that I wrote an Amazon review and it smells like vanilla.
OMG! Here’s the deal. My book Letters to You and All Your Friends is now called SHUT UP, YOU’RE WELCOME. When I told my mother this, she cringed and tsk-tsked me. So now you know it’s a great fucking title. In fact, it’s the best title. I should’ve called the book Best Title Ever. But then I couldn’t have named it SHUT UP, YOU’RE WELCOME, which is, as I just explained, the best title ever.
The book is due out July 9 on Touchstone/Simon & Schuster! What better way to celebrate July than to read all these words I put together, just for you! It’s available for pre-order AHORA! That means “now,” en Español. The book, however, is in English. It qualifies for super saver shipping! So while you’re there, you can buy this can opener. It’s less can opener and more Jean Claude ‘Can’ Damme. I love it so much that I’ve considered breaking into my neighbor’s apartment and opening all his cans. You know, to be nice. While I’m there, I will destroy his stereo system. The other night he was playing “Eternal Flame” by the Bangles and while I’m perfectly OK with that song, he listened to it about fifteen times in a row. Seriously. It was like a “power hour” of Eternal Flame. He loves listening to the same crap over and over and over. And over. If you are reading this, and you were listening to the Bangles nonstop, then you are my neighbor. Hello neighbor. You are making me sad.
Where was I? Oh yes, Amazon. I also reviewed Happy Birthday or Whatever. I gave it five stars and I would’ve given it MORE stars, like say five-and-a-half of them, if Amazon weren’t so strict. Let us have more stars, Amazon! Stars are free!. They are also just like us! They have their arms full! They lean on fences! They pick up dog poop! I know it is totally not classy to review your own book, but you can’t spell “class” without “ass”, am I right? (Say yes.)
I’ll be posting info about readings as soon as we figure it all out. And, of course, follow me on Facebook and Twitter.
I have posted a new review on Amazon, this time on the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. If you have not used this, then go buy this right now and prepare to have the biggest boner of your life. Even if you are a lady, you will experience what it means to have a boner. It feels pretty MAGICAL, NOT UNLIKE A MAGIC ERASER.
I put up yet another Amazon review. This time of a taco. Specifically, THIS taco.
OK FINE, it’s not a real taco, but you were TOTALLY fooled right? Right? No? Not just a little bit? My friend Larry gave it to me. There’s no need to be jealous. Mostly because it doesn’t come with a real taco. Unless you put one in there.
I know you want it. It’s only $8.88. I realize for $8.88 you can buy a REAL taco. Several real tacos, in fact. If you went to Taco Zone, the king shit of taco truck mountain, then you could get SEVEN tacos. OR you could get six tacos and a horchata. Get the horchata. Sometimes I force a friend (usually Micah) to get the horchata so I can drink, like, half of it. Then Micah eventually cuts me off, not because I’m drinking all his horch, but because if I drank one on my own, my stomach would explode from the dairy. You probably didn’t need to know that, but there you have it. I ‘overshared’. It’s what I do best. Fucking horchata. Why must I love the things that hurt me so?
But seriously though. An $8.88 taco pouch. You probably don’t need it but wish you did.
I cannot promise you that this will be my last update about toast. It is hard to shut up about something you love, sometimes I want to shout my love for toast from the rooftops, until my neighbors call the police. But here is my recent Amazon review of my new toaster.
WARNING: THE TOASTER IS SMALL AND DOES NOT CAUSE FIRES (YET).
I wrote a review of my toaster oven on Amazon. You should probably read it and definitely buy it, if you are a fire enthusiast or prefer your toast to look like this:
I still have not found a good toaster oven though. It’s been really hard, you guys. Life is, like, so hard. Sniff.