Comments on websites are both a blessing and a curse. Take YouTube, for example, where responses to user videos are often juvenile at best. Amazon, on the other hand, oh how I love the comments on Amazon. Maybe it is because Amazon was born out of a community where people had a love of the written word. Here are 5 of my favorite Amazon product reviews that make me laugh.
Lord knows I love my Playmobil, but this product takes realistic place settings to a whole new level. All that is missing is the full body scan and inappropriate patdown area. Here’s the review from loosenut:
I was a little disappointed when I first bought this item, because the functionality is limited. My 5 year old son pointed out that the passenger’s shoes cannot be removed. Then, we placed a deadly fingernail file underneath the passenger’s scarf, and neither the detector doorway nor the security wand picked it up. My son said “that’s the worst security ever!”. But it turned out to be okay, because when the passenger got on the Playmobil B757 and tried to hijack it, she was mobbed by a couple of other heroic passengers, who only sustained minor injuries in the scuffle, which were treated at the Playmobil Hospital. The best thing about this product is that it teaches kids about the realities of living in a high-surveillence society. My son said he wants the Playmobil Neighborhood Surveillence System set for Christmas. I’ve heard that the CC TV cameras on that thing are pretty worthless in terms of quality and motion detection, so I think I’ll get him the Playmobil Abu-Gharib Interogation Set instead (it comes with a cute little memo from George Bush).
Because, you know, what Dad doesn’t need a pair of $6,800 speaker cables? Review by Happy Customer
I was a bit skeptical, but decided to take a chance and took out a second mortgage on my home to buy these cables. In a great wave of luck however, the cables actually built me a NEW house shortly after I lost mine to foreclosure (I lost my job after missing 2 weeks straight due to illness. Between you and I, though, I was really just spending 16 hours a day tweaking the connectors on these cables to get the best possible sound from my speakers.)
Although I love my new home, I do not love it as much as I do these cables. They are quickly becoming the favorite thing in my life, a position which used to be held by my daughter. She’s old enough to take care of herself now, at least that’s what I tell the Children’s Services agent when they try to lecture me about food and clothing and blah blah blah.
This playset is one of the best purchases I have made for my three-year-old. In the past, when we have been stopped at roadblocks, or when during one of Daddy’s arrests, he would start crying uncontrollably. Now, after playing with this for the past several months, he is perfectly docile.
As an adjunct to this product, I would also recommend that you purchase the Playmobil Armed Standoff Playset, Fisher-Price Little People Battering Ram, and the Nerf Tear-Gas Canister Deployment Gun.
Yes, you can buy milk on Amazon. Who knew? Catherine Swinford’s review raises the literary bar for Amazon product reviews.
He always brought home milk on Friday.
After a long hard week full of days he would burst through the door, his fatigue hidden behind a smile. There was an icy jug of Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz in his right hand. With his left hand he would grip my waist – I was always cooking dinner – and press the cold frostiness of the jug against my arm as he kissed my cheek. I would jump, mostly to gratify him after a time, and smile lovingly at him. He was a good man, a wonderful husband who always brought the milk on Friday, Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz.
Then there was that Friday, the terrible Friday that would ruin every Friday for the rest of my life. The door opened, but there was no bouyant greeting – no cold jug against the back of my arm. There was no Tuscan Whole Milk in his right hand, nor his left. There came no kiss. I watched as he sat down in a kitchen chair to remove his shoes. He wore no fatigue, but also no smile. I didn’t speak, but turned back to the beans I had been stirring. I stirred until most of their little shrivelled skins floated to the surface of the cloudy water. Something was wrong, but it was vague wrongness that no amount of hard thought could give shape to.
Over dinner that night I casually inserted,”What happened to the milk?”
“Oh,”he smiled sheepishly, glancing aside,”I guess I forgot today.”
That was when I knew. He was tired of this life with me, tired of bringing home the Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz. He was probably shoveling funds into a secret bank account, looking at apartments in town, casting furtive glances at cashiers and secretaries and waitresses. That’s when I knew it was over. Some time later he moved in with a cashier from the Food Mart down the street. And me? Well, I’ve gone soy.
This item has wolves on it which makes it intrinsically sweet and worth 5 stars by itself, but once I tried it on, that’s when the magic happened. After checking to ensure that the shirt would properly cover my girth, I walked from my trailer to Wal-mart with the shirt on and was immediately approached by women. The women knew from the wolves on my shirt that I, like a wolf, am a mysterious loner who knows how to ‘howl at the moon’ from time to time (if you catch my drift!). The women that approached me wanted to know if I would be their boyfriend and/or give them money for something they called mehth. I told them no, because they didn’t have enough teeth, and frankly a man with a wolf-shirt shouldn’t settle for the first thing that comes to him.
I arrived at Wal-mart, mounted my courtesy-scooter (walking is such a drag!) sitting side saddle so that my wolves would show. While I was browsing tube socks, I could hear aroused asthmatic breathing behind me. I turned around to see a slightly sweaty dream in sweatpants and flip-flops standing there. She told me she liked the wolves on my shirt, I told her I wanted to howl at her moon. She offered me a swig from her mountain dew, and I drove my scooter, with her shuffling along side out the door and into the rest of our lives. Thank you wolf shirt.
Pros: Fits my girthy frame, has wolves on it, attracts women
Cons: Only 3 wolves (could probably use a few more on the ‘guns’), cannot see wolves when sitting with arms crossed, wolves would have been better if they glowed in the dark.
Honerable mention for Three Wolves shirt goes to DrCoolSex (and bonus point for working in Tuscon Whole Milk):
I went to write this post and, on a lark, Google’d the term “bickersons”. I have heard that term used throughout my life to mean two people who do nothing but argue. Turns out, The Bickersons was actually a post-WW2 radio comedy series starring Don Ameche and Francis Langford as two married people who do nothing but argue.
I feel like I know this radio play well. No, not my wife and I. It’s the kids.
It has gotten so bad that we have taken them to our family doctor to see if there is anything medically wrong with them. Turns out that was a good call as it appears that The Boy is suffering from a severe bout of LBS (Little Brother Syndrome). LBS symptoms include an incessant need to sit on his sisters half of the couch, poke her in the back and then run away, and mess up perfectly ordered lines of crayons.
His older sister has also been diagnosed with OSPMS (Older Sibling Parentitis Münchausen Syndrome), whose symptoms include assuming the proxy role of a parent when none are in the same room, an unnatural desire to strictly enforce all rules (real and imagined) and maintain extreme control over all living beings smaller than her who live within close physical proximity.
The Doctor has assured us that this is quite normal and that the symptoms will decrease in occurrence the closer to December 25th we get. However, the long term prognosis does not look good, and we can expect both conditions to flame up again early in the new year, with possible spontaneous outbreaks over the next 10 to 20 years.
My wife won a contest last week through a local parenting magazine called Island Parent. As a prize my wife got to pick anything they had on their prize table. She and The Girl went down to the magazine office on Monday to claim their prize.
After scanning the assorted books, toys, tickets and related stuff on the prize table for a few minutes, The Girl’s eyes stopped and became fixed on something. My wife looked at the book The Girl was checking out. It was titled Got Tape?: Roll Out the Fun With Duct Tape!. How could she resist? Their first project? The pair of flip flops in the photo above. I sense a new suit is in the works for Father’s Day.
I was a little disappointed when I first bought this item, because the functionality is limited. My 5 year old son pointed out that the passenger’s shoes cannot be removed. Then, we placed a deadly fingernail file underneath the passenger’s scarf, and neither the detector doorway nor the security wand picked it up. My son said “that’s the worst security ever!”
This playset is one of the best purchases I have made for my three-year-old. In the past, when we have been stopped at roadblocks, or when during one of Daddy’s arrests, he would start crying uncontrollably. Now, after playing with this for the past several months, he is perfectly docile.
As an adjunct to this product, I would also recommend that you purchase the Playmobil Armed Standoff Playset, Fisher-Price Little People Battering Ram, and the Nerf Tear-Gas Canister Deployment Gun.
and
I was pretty pumped to get this model. After my Leviathan teddy-bear burst at the seams and my Guantanamo slip and slide tore into several pieces, I was looking for a petty distraction as durable as state tyranny itself.
Finally, I found the Playmobil Police Checkpoint. It’s everything a colorful plastic method of indoctrination should be: mobile, plastic, and filled with red warning signs. I love setting it up outside my house. That way I feel like I have to show papers to get in. I know I own it, but it’s cooler if the state lets me in. They know best.
Still, I have a complaint about this darling set. I mean, I’m no curmudgeon, and I hate to nit-pick, especially over such a usefully didactic toy. But I must-
No taser?
Oh, how I do love user generated comment. Read plenty more over at Amazon.
A little while ago, The Girl caught wind that I do not like clowns. I suspect traitor Mom. Anyway, one of her favorite games to play with me is to come barreling down the hallway screaming,” Dad, Dad! There is a clown in the backyard!” And then she falls down in hysterics, thinking this is the funniest thing she has ever heard.
A slight variation of this game involves her running up to me and saying, ” Dad, Dad! There is a clown in the backyard…and he is carrying a pickle!” Yes, you guessed it. I don’t like pickles, either.
Anyway, I don’t know where this clown phobia comes from, but methinks I might have run into this guy when I was a kid. That is some serious Jell-o that clown is packing in the backyard.
Last fall I went to the Experience Music Project in Seattle. While there I bought my son a very fun shirt with a picture of Bob Marley on it and a caption that says “B is for Bob” (like this one). He loved it and it quickly became his favorite piece of clothing.
Since he got that shirt, Bob Marley has been in high rotation in our house, and The Boy has been singing along with Bob and the Wailers. His favorite is Three Little Birds. It’s damn adorable to hear him sing the song. If you are not familiar, it’s one of the most optimistic songs on the face of the earth. It starts:
Don’t worry
about a thing.
Cause every little thing
is gonna be all right
This is where it gets tragic.
One day, the (seriously fantastic in all respects except this one) daycare workers at his daycare saw him wearing his Bob shirt and heard him fumbling out the lyric, “don’t worry”. For some reason, they filled in the next line with “be happy.” As in don’t worry, be happy by another Bob – Bobby McFerrin. So now they have gone one step further and, thinking that Graeme loves that song, have got it on a CD and are playing it in the daycare in high rotation for him. He is being brainwashed by Bobby McFerrin.
Now, Bobby McFerrin is a mighty fine musician in his own right and has produced some excellent music beyond the unfortunate phenomenon that was Don’t Worry, Be Happy. But he ain’t no Bob Marley. And now somehow my son is getting it into his head that Bob Marley sings “don’t worry, be happy.” And THAT, my friends, is a tragedy.
Chances are, you have lived this scene, either post birthday party or Christmas morning.
New toys, unwrapped but still in their package, are strewn around the room. You sit down, scissors and a pair of pliers in hand, ready to do battle with the packaging and free the toys from their prison of rigid plastic and miles of twist tie wire. Your kids are doing the happy dance, watching you with glee and barely contained excitement, breathlessly waiting for the booty to spring forth. As you begin the task, your hand slips and catches on the hard plastic clamshell packaging. Off you go to stop the bleeding. Repeat many times, until you are red faced frustrated and require a blood transfusion while your kids are reduced to sobbing messes because they can’t play with their toys because some sadistic toy manufacturer has made it impossible to free the toys from their packaging!
It ain’t a pretty site.
Well, hope may be at hand, courtesy of Amazon.com, who have announced a new program called the Frustration-Free Packaging Initiative whose first two goals are to eliminate clamshell packaging and wire tie downs.
It certainly helps that Jeff Bezos, founder and CEO of Amazon.com, is spearheading the companies drive. I haven’t looked closely at his hands, but, being that Jeff has 4 kids, I suspect they resemble my 9th grade shop teachers. Hence, the push.
Rick Mercer (Canada’s Stephen Colbert – or is Stephen the US Rick Mercer?) rocks. This probably won’t make much sense to my US friends, but I am sure you have enough of your own political humour to occupy you right now.
Feeling like my Dad mojo is returning. Good thing, too, cause I realized I was quickly turning into the kind of 70′s era Dad that Sweet Juniper uncovered in an old forgotten Dad book, the kind of which should probably remain forgotten.
Some things never change, however. I still get tired well before the kids when reading them bedtime stories. More than once I have awoken to the sharp thrust of The Girl’s elbow in my ribs and the admonishment to stay awake and finish If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
Thousands of angry elves are expected to descend on a small British Columbia city this weekend to protest the annual culling of the toys.
“It’s barbaric,” says Jolly Happy, head of the Society Against Nasty Toy Abuse (S.A.N.T.A.). “The father of this family is about to commit toyicide and we must stop him.”
“There’s just too damn many toys in our house,” says the beleaguered father. “With Christmas and 2 birthdays within the span of 5 weeks, we’re overrun with Dora, Strawberry Shortcake and Tinkerbell crap. We have to get rid of some.”
“I’m not sure why they (S.A.N.T.A.) are so pissed anyway,” says the father. “The vast majority of these toys will find a better home in second hand stores and charities.”
Despite the humane assurances, worldwide reaction to the planned toy cull has been swift.
“He better leave the Lego alone,” says the Danish Toy Council.
In Sweden economic sanctions are planned against Canada should the toy cull result in the premature death of toys created or purchased at Ikea.
And in Brazil, the Brazilian government has offered amnesty to all soccer related toys and equipment, a sentiment supported by the government of Italy.
However, the father plans to proceed despite the international outrage. “I don’t care. I’ve done my last middle of the night step on some stupid stuffed squelchy animal. Look out, Little People, I’m cleaning house!”
There are 2 little pleasures in life that I enjoy on an almost daily basis; 2 small rituals that, day in and day out, I look forward to with unbridled enthusiasm.
No matter how crazy my days get, I wake up each morning with the happy thought that it is time to slosh back a cup of coffee.
The second is the unbridled joy the final sip of a good microbrew gives me at the end of each day – yes, I am not ashamed to admit it – I have one just about each and every day. It’s good for you. Really.
So today’s news that a looming shortage of hops is forcing some of my favorite beer companies to reinvent their signature lines and, gasp, in some case raise prices is being met with great sadness in our house. Join me as I raise a bottle and mourn the lose.
I’m a 45 year old Father of two great kids: an 8 year old girl I call “The Girl” and a 5 year old boy called “The Boy”. The names are changed to protect the innocent – they can choose to reveal themselves when the time is right – probably in 20 years with their therapist when the contents of this blog will be used against me :)
. How could she resist? Their first project? The pair of flip flops in the photo above. I sense a new suit is in the works for Father’s Day.
I was a little disappointed when I first bought this item, because the functionality is limited. My 5 year old son pointed out that the passenger’s shoes cannot be removed. Then, we placed a deadly fingernail file underneath the passenger’s scarf, and neither the detector doorway nor the security wand picked it up. My son said “that’s the worst security ever!”
This playset is one of the best purchases I have made for my three-year-old. In the past, when we have been stopped at roadblocks, or when during one of Daddy’s arrests, he would start crying uncontrollably. Now, after playing with this for the past several months, he is perfectly docile.
. He loved it and it quickly became his favorite piece of clothing.
.