Why So Many Holes?
As of late, I've noticed I've been tossing away many pairs of socks because they've gotten holes at the toes. How many pairs? I'd guess around five in the last two weeks. Now this might not be terribly interesting to most people (read: anybody but me), but the holes-in-your-socks issue is one that has been neglected for far too long.
First, what causes the holes? Is it over-use, you know, wear-and-tear? Is it washing the socks in cold water vs. hot water? Is it that my toes are somehow growing at a mutant pace? Or is that my socks are shrinking?
Secondly, am I insane to even post this on a blog? Have I gotten this desperate to fill space? When did you stop reading this post? When did you return?
Okay, in honour of my socks, here's a collection of photos of socks:
"Hello. Is Mr. Sawsbitt there?"
This is not so much a new trend as it is a new policy I've adopted. From here on out, telemarketers who call my house and ask for someone with the last name of Corbett, Cobett, Cozbitt, Sawsbitt, Zeon, Cobitz, or anything that isn't either pronounced Zah-bit, Zoe-bit or Cho-beat, will be immediately hung up on.
There are only three acceptable pronunciations of my last name (the last one above being the Ukrainian pronunciation). If telemarketers aren't courageous enough to admit that they don't know how to pronounce my name, then I'm not going to take the time to listen to their sales pitch.
But even if they do get the name right, telemarketers won't get far. Last week, I had the windows done, the driveway re-paved, and the lawn sprayed. Telemarketers are just shit out of luck.