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Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA
I originally wrote this piece for MediaShower.com, for use on the late, great comedy site ZuG.com. Text and images published here with permission.
I’m easily confused. This should be plainly clear to anyone who’s ever met me, asked for directions or tried to teach me high school geometry.
(Sorry, Ms. Bilkerson; it was a losing battle. You might as well have been chalking out rhombuses for a potted begonia. “Rectilinear”? I barely even knew ‘er.)
I thought I left my most mystified moments back in the classroom. But no. Even today, I find the simplest products can come with misleading marketing, disorienting directions and perplexing packaging. Nothing is what it seems to be, or works quite the way you’d want. It’s like we bought the whole world from Ikea.
But when I have questions, I know Facebook has the answers. Read on to see me seek clarity — with my actual Facebook posts — from the makers of some of the most discombobulating products on the market. Here’s hoping they grade on the curve.
All I wanted was a nice snack from the good folks at DiGiorno. But I procured my pizza in a somewhat… unconventional fashion. What were the implications? My pepperoni boggled:
I wouldn’t say they addressed my question, exactly. But apparently I’m safe enough — assuming I don’t try cooking my pizza in the CERN supercollider.
You’d think cleaning your bathroom would be straightforward. Not if you’re me. I have certain expectations of the Scrubbing Bubbles people:
I decided to settle down with a cool iced tea. Simple. Refreshing. Honest. Or… is it?:
All this discombobulation was making me sick. So I decided to feel better with a quick dose of NyQuil. But sick and tired as I was, was I sick and tired enough? “NyQuil Rose” wouldn’t even bend me over to take my temperature:
So what did I learn from all this? Not a lot. I’m sick and hungry, I’ve sworn off tea, and my bathtub’s full of soap scum and fail. Also, I still can’t do math. I’m just glad old Ms. Bilkerson’s not around to see this. She’d probably smack me with a parallelogram.
Last week, Zolton chug-a-lugged with V8, Odwalla, Trop50 and Silk. Want to join in the prank? Click the links to see each real-life Facebook post, and comment or ‘Like’ them to generate more buzz. Or visit Zolton’s own Facebook page!
Permalink | No CommentsI originally wrote this piece for MediaShower.com, for use on the late, great comedy site ZuG.com. Text and images published here with permission.
As I go through life, I find that reviewing a product is often good enough. Having my voice heard and alerting the masses (and building a bedroom fort out of Amazon boxes) usually scratches the old “reviewer’s itch.”
And if that doesn’t work, there’s always Preparation R.
But sometimes, I need to go further with a product. Get more in-depth. More personal.
More interactive.
So this week, I turned to Facebook to ask pressing questions of some of my favorite product companies. Would they answer my requests? “Butter” me up for being a fan? Even send me a new car, why not?
Read on to find out, and to see my actual Facebook conversations with some real manufacturing heavy hitters. Dive in with a comment yourself and join the fun. But watch out, kids. These reviewees might just bite back.
I started with Chevrolet. I’ve always had a soft spot for them; my very first car was a Cavalier. Which is also how I’d describe its attitude to stopping on wet pavement. So the Chevy Facebook page was a must-visit.
Next came Jif. Because who doesn’t love that creamy roof-of-the-mouth sticky feeling?
(That’s what my crazy nympho college girlfriend said. But let’s stick to peanut butter.)
Finally, I swung by to see the Tide people. They’ve got a new product called ‘Pods’ that have been giving me fits in the laundry room. Much more of this, and I’m going back to huffing Snuggle.
I’m still waiting for these people to get back to me. You’d think piddly little companies like these would take the time out to chat with a loyal customer. I guess next time, I’m gonna have to poke ’em.
Preferably with a tube of Preparation R. Oh, yeah. That’ll scratch the itch.
Join in on the prank! Click the links to see each real-life Facebook post, and comment or ‘Like’ them to generate more buzz. Or click here to visit Zolton’s own Facebook page!
Permalink | No CommentsI originally wrote this piece for MediaShower.com, for use on the late, great comedy site ZuG.com. Text and images published here with permission.
Sometimes trouble has a way of sneaking up on you when you’re not looking.
Other times, trouble arrives with all the subtlety of a diesel-fueled Amtrak. It doesn’t especially care whether you’re looking or not; you’re getting sucked under the wheels of the 10:15 express either way. Like last week, when my wife asked:
“You like surprises, right?”
Aw, crap. I smell a choo-choo. “Uh… not really?”
“Well, my mother’s coming to stay with us this weekend. Surprise, anyway.”
Turns out the old girl was having a pretty hectic time of things lately, and needed a couple of days away for some “R and R.” And she chose our house for it. Which led me to wonder aloud whether “R and R” stood for “Reproaching and Recriminating.” The train conductor was not amused.
Mother-in-law identity has been changed to protect … ah, hell, who am I kidding? NOBODY is innocent when a mother-in-law is involved.
I was instructed in no uncertain terms to be on my best behavior, and to make the mom-in-law “feel welcome and comfortable in our home.” Unfortunately, I didn’t know exactly what it takes to make a member of the over-50 club “comfortable,” outside of getting my damned hair cut, turning down that rock-and-roll racket and getting the hell offa her lawn.
Lucky for me, Amazon had everything I needed to give my mother-in-law a proper sort of welcome. And they shipped it out faster than an octagenarian snapping up crab legs at the Early Bird buffet. Welcome to my weekend:
My Amazon Review:
I got tabbed to pick my mother-in-law up from the airport, and figured some nice soothing music from her generation would be just the ticket. Never mind that I was a couple of decades off on “her generation,” or that she says she’s into current pop — all old people like Lawrence Welk, right?
I thought she might be hard of hearing by now, so I turned the volume way up on the polkas. I don’t know what passed for dancing back in the old days, but she sure jerked and gyrated around in the passenger seat, all the way home. If I hadn’t known any better, it almost looked as if she was screaming and clawing at the window, trying to get out. Maybe that’s what they called the “Charleston.”
I didn’t get to hear any of the polkas myself — I had earplugs in to dampen the noise — but after her jitterbugging in the car, I told my mom-in-law that if she wanted, I’d take her for a long ride every day to hear some more of those tunes. She nearly collapsed just at the thought of it. I guess a little dancing really takes it out of the old folks.
My Amazon Review:
I was under strict orders from the missus that her mother was NOT to be disturbed during her time with us. So I posted this tape all over our door, through the condo hallway and in a big huge “X” over the guest bedroom door.
When she saw it, my mother-in-law looked disturbed. I explained that the tape was just there to keep out the riff-raff. No one would dare come looking for trouble with this kind of warning in place.
She didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to suggest that I have PMS?”
“Goodness, no — nothing of the kind. I would never dream of implying such a thing.”
“Okay. Good.”
“Because CLEARLY, you’re menopausal.”
In related news, while this product hangs nicely I wouldn’t recommend having several feet of it forcibly shoved down your throat. As bright and zesty as it looks, the taste leaves much to be desired.
Maybe with some nice pesto and an amusing merlot, it could work. For now, it just tastes like “crow.”
My Amazon Review:
There’s nothing so relaxing as curling up with a nice puzzle, and I thought that word search would be right up my mother-in-law’s alley. After all, she uses words all. The. Time. Non-stop, practically. And time spent hunting for words is time not spent detailing how much better her daughter should have done than me.
Sadly, I shot myself in the proverbial foot by buying the large-print old peoples’ version. When there’s only one letter per page, ferreting out the words like “a” or “I” doesn’t take nearly as long as I hoped it would. Which left plenty of time for mom-in-law and me to “chat.”
I ask for a “diversion,” and you send me this, Amazon? Really? No, REALLY?
Wherein I learned that if not for me, her daughter would have won a Nobel Prize by now. Also an Oscar, a Pulitzer, and a card for free Denny’s Grand Slam breakfasts for life. And she’d be married to an astronaut.
My Amazon Review:
I was so excited to bring this out, I could hardly wait until the 4:30pm dinner hour was over. I rushed into the living room to set up, and was soon calling out numbers like a Saturday night pro down in the Baptist church basement.
Unfortunately, by the time I got my Bingo game on I was interrupting the show my mother-in-law was watching. And hell hath no fury, apparently, like a woman who wants to see her Matlock stories on the TV. She grabbed the bingo balls from me during a commercial break and pelted me into submission. I took an N-32 to the gut, and there’s still an imprint of O-66 on my forehead. We never found B-7. It either rolled under a couch, or I’ll be passing it in a couple of days.
Either way, I think I’m done with Bingo for a while. But my mother-in-law says she feels like a million bucks now; winging balls at me is the most fun she’s had in years. And she’s coming back to stay next weekend.
I wonder if Amazon has time to deliver an athletic cup and extra-strength aspirin before I get Bing-O-bliterated again?
The good news: I think I found “B-6.” The bad: It “B-8” inches up past where I want to reach for it. “O-62,” momma!
You can help with this prank! Click the links above to see each real-life Amazon review, then mark them as “helpful” so they rise to the top of the list on Amazon!
Permalink | No CommentsI originally wrote this piece for MediaShower.com, for use on the late, great comedy site ZuG.com. Text and images published here with permission.
They say when it rains, it pours. And sometimes life just unzips and drowns you like a urinal cake in a rogue tsunami. That’s how it’s been at the office lately.
There’s plenty enough to worry about on the job during the best of times. My meeting calendar looks like a poorly-conceived game of Tetris. As a semi-professional smartass, I’m always this close to some sort of workplace lawsuit — harassment, slander, libel, take your pick. And there are only so many medical emergencies I can pretend to have to use up sick days.
(I’ve “had” five bouts of pneumonia, eight gallbladders removed and a half dozen Lyme disease scares. And that was just September. Last week, the HR lady asked me if my spouse’s name is “Typhoid Mary.”)
Avoiding actual work has become like a full-time job lately. And to top it off, I’ve now been struck with that most insidious of office nuisances: workplace theft.
Every day, I’d find something else missing at my desk. First, it was Post-Its. Then my three good clicky-top pens. Mousepads, headphones, those emergency airline bottles of gin in the bottom drawer — all gone. If it wasn’t physically nailed onto the desk, it was apparently fair game. Soon I was left with little but the naked keyboard, mouse and computer the company gave me to do work on. And homey don’t work like that.
This is all I have left to write with. Does it LOOK like a clicky-top pen? WELL, DOES IT?!?
I resolved to fight this sticky-fingered felon, and to protect what precious little stuff I had left. Of course, to do it, I needed more stuff. Good stuff. Crime-busting stuff. So I put that “work computer” to good use on an Amazon shopping spree. Here’s what I came up with:
My Amazon Review:
This little gem was just the ticket. Not only would I stop the thieving hound from taking my stuff — I’d catch him red-handed on tape, to boot. And then … well, I don’t know what then. Maybe I’d turn him in to the cops for a good beating. Or let the company send him to some sort of anti-theft deprogramming cult. I could torture him until he told me where he put my precious clicky-tops. The possibilities were endless.
And this camera is fantastic. I dug through my pocket change to confirm the picture — and it really IS the size of a penny! I hid the camera on a shelf in my cubicle and waited for the corporate cat burglar to strike again.
Which he did, apparently. When I came in the next morning, the camera was gone. And he took my pocket change, the weaseling little jackhole. In place of the spy cam, he left a little doodle of a camera. On one of MY Post-Its that he stole the week before.
Of course you realize, mystery smuggy-face pilferer: THIS MEANS WAR.
My Amazon Review:
I decided rather than get mad, I’d get even. Or I’d get mad, and then get even. Actually, I got mad, had lunch, slept through a staff meeting, and THEN worked on getting even. But oh, would I get even.
The next time that felonious fink slithered by to swipe my stuff, he’d get a nice angry jolt from this electrified stapler. I gave it a “test run” at my desk, and it delivered quite a wallop. I actually think I may have peed a little. Just to be safe, I swapped chairs with the next cubicle over.
Then, I set my trap. I didn’t want another dose of lightning myself, so I used a set of tongs to place the stapler in an innocent-looking position on my desk, just waiting to be stolen.
I returned to find the stapler still there the next morning, and no thief writhing in agony on the floor beside it. Disappointed, I reached for the tongs to move it safely away — and a lightning bolt ran up my arm and punched me square in the nose. The son of a Tesla electrified my tongs — the nerve! I picked up the closest thing on my desk to throw in a fit of rage — which happened to be the stapler, and I buzzed myself again.
In related news, the office is quickly running out of unstained chairs. Somebody should send out a memo or something.
My Amazon Review:
I figured this would stop the thief in his tracks. These locks are made of metal strong enough to resist a blowtorch and jackhammer sandwich. You could floss a great white shark with one of these babies. Anything I wanted to keep, I’d just loop this thing through, hook it onto the computer, and be all set.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t paying close attention when I set it up, and completely forgot to look up the default combination on the instructions. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, but I REALLY wasn’t paying attention and accidentally looped the lock through one of the belt loops on my pants. Which meant I wasn’t going anywhere further than eighteen inches away from the desk, unless someone happened by with a diamond-studded chainsaw to cut me loose. And the instructions were just where you’d expect them to be — in the trash can, eight feet away.
I played it off for the rest of the day — said I was staying at my desk for lunch. Missed the all-hands staff meeting in the afternoon. Had a VERY interesting conversation with the firemen who came when the alarm went off. But I got through the day. and when everyone had left I slipped out of the pants and escaped.
Of course, they’d emptied the trash by then, so I still don’t know the combination. And now I have a pair of Levi 501s permanently draped over my monitor. On the bright side, I guess, at least the thief hasn’t managed to steal THOSE.
My Amazon Review:
Finally, enough was enough. I bought six cases of this sticky goo and pasted every single item left onto my desk. Permanently. That’ll teach some thieving no-good to pilfer my stuff — just try taking something NOW, tough guy.
In retrospect, “protecting” my sunglasses may not have been the best idea.
Of course, I couldn’t actually work any more, what with the mouse glued to the pad and the pad to the desk. Or all my notebooks stuck in place, or the telephone permanently fixed in its holder. But none of it disappeared, either. That’s what you call a “tie.” And I’ll settle for a standoff, every time.
At least, I would have. When I got to the office the next Monday, the whole freaking desk was gone. Maybe it was the thief, maybe the boss figured out that I was doing even less than usual and sacked me. I didn’t stick around to find out — I took one trip around the cube farm, grabbed all the Post-Its and mousepads and clicky-top pens I could carry, and got the hell out of there.
Hey, if they didn’t want me taking stuff off their desks, they should have bought six cases of Krazy Glue. This is how we learn, apparently.
Yes! Revengery is MINE!
You can help with this prank! Click the links above to see each real-life Amazon review, then mark them as “helpful” so they rise to the top of the list on Amazon!
Permalink | No CommentsI originally wrote this piece for MediaShower.com, for use on the late, great comedy site ZuG.com. Text and images published here with permission.
This particular article was a part of the ZuG ‘farewell week’ before the site shut down on April 1, 2013 after eighteen years of yuks. It will be missed.
It’s never easy losing someone you love. It’s harder still when that someone is funny, kinky, takes both Viagra and breast enhancement pills, and is of legal age in most states. And also shows you her boobs occasionally. Or his.
Moving on.
Death is especially difficult when you see it coming. Sure, it’s a shock when someone dies in a zeppelin crash or an industrial vibrator accident, but at least there’s no dread beforehand. The doom that looms is harder to bear. And that’s the case for our beloved ZuG.
Like a redshirted Enterprise crewman, the slutty girl in a horror flick or Taylor Swift’s next crush, ZuG’s fate is already sealed. We can’t save ZuG; we can only try to cope with the void it will leave. As we progress through the five stages of comedic grief — amusing, chuckleworthy, funny, hilarious and side-splitting — just remember:
It’s all Nutbutter’s fault. Probably. I’m just saying.
Oh, and I pranked some Facebook companies, too. Because that’s still a thing, apparently, at least for another four days.
The post:
The post:
The post:
The post:
Eighteen years of yuks and all you rate is a “Fields of Europe” bouquet? I hope to shit you’ve got something better planned for the gravestone.
Goodnight, sweet ZuG. We hardly blew ye.
In the previous Facebook folly, Zolton made a spicy meat-a-ball with Ronzoni, Barilla, Bertolli and Buitoni. Want to join in the prank? Click the links to see each real-life Facebook post, and comment or ‘Like’ them to generate more buzz. Or visit Zolton’s own Facebook page!
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