I hate you, Payless

Here’s a typical situation: the Romgi and I are at a store. We’ve collected our awesome purchases and brought them up to the cashier. She scans them, puts them in a bag, and as I swipe my debit card she asks, “Can I get your phone number/zip code?”

I sigh. “Do you need it?” I respond.

She says something about “information purposes” or an equally incoherent phrase. So I decline.

The Romgi shakes his head and walks away. As we walk out of the store, he asks me why I couldn’t just give them my phone number (or zip code). Grouchily, I tell him that I don’t like them having my information.

Today, faithful readers, the Romgi admitted that I was totally right.

We’d gone to Payless recently to replace my one pair of black shoes (I bought the old ones in 2006), and just to make the Romgi’s life easier I gave the cashier my phone number. Actually, just to be ornery, I gave her the Romgi’s phone number. And we left the store without issue.

BUT TODAY.

Today the Romgi got a text message from Payless!

PAYLESS thx U 4 giving us ur #! Get 20% off ur next purchase w/code 33079 thru 4/11

Maybe this doesn’t seem like a big deal to you, especially since I was able to call and use an automated system to remove the Romgi’s number from their mailing list. But it’s a HUGE deal to me. Unsolicited texts! Those cost ME money! Email is one thing – it’s easy to click unsubscribe or even call it spam. But a text seems much more invasive (and can I point out again, it costs me money to receive).

The Romgi wonders if this could make a class-action lawsuit.

Regardless, I now feel completely justified in flat-out refusing to give my phone number to stores now. I spoke with a Payless customer service guy over the phone, and he explained that they do collect phone numbers for “marketing,” which I never would have anticipated to mean “We will sign you up for our text message mailing list and bombard you with stupid messages.”

Fail, Payless.


Big kid now?

I can’t believe how big the Bwun is getting (especially since our neighbors just had a baby – it makes the Bwun look even bigger!). So behold. And tell me how adorable he is. I don’t need validation (I already know he’s super cute), I just like when you comment.

Who can resist?

I got him to smile by pretending to sneeze right before I snapped the picture. Yes, I am a genius.

One of my all-time favorite Bwun shirts.

And not in focus, but he's just SO BIG!


The Bwun ♥s dogs.

Remember I said I would tell you all about how the Bwun is obsessed with dogs?

Finally! Here we go.

When the Romgi and I were doing some last-minute Christmas shopping last year, I spotted a fantastically ridiculous wolf calendar and I had to have it. It went perfectly with our honeymoon souvenir: a cross-section of a tree with a heavily-lacquered print of a giant-eagle-attacking-timber-wolf-in-a-snowstorm drawing. We made a goal before the wedding to find the tackiest souvenir possible, and I’m pretty sure we succeeded.

Anyway. That was why I got the wolf calendar. I hung it in the hallway on the door to the laundry room.

For a while now we’ve been teaching the Bwun to recognize the animals in our Berkley Illustration prints – dog, rat, tiger, sloth. One day he began pointing at the wolves on the calendar and, to keep things simple, I said they were dogs. Soon he would crawl over and babble at the calendar; we looked at some pictures of dogs online, and suddenly he pointed and said quite clearly, “Dah!”

This is a big deal because the Bwun does not say any other words. He doesn’t say mama, ma, dada, dad, pa, baby, up, or anything useful. But dog: before long he was saying dog all day.

A few weeks ago we were enjoying the nice weather outside and visiting with our neighbor, whose daughter is a month older than the Bwun. Next door to them is a cat. The cat wandered over and, of course, the Bwun greeted it with shouts of “Dog! Dog!” I explained that it was a cat; we played with it for a while (as much as you can play with a cat, that is); then it wandered off and we went back home to eat lunch and take a nap.

The Bwun was furious.

That night he refused to go to sleep, and constantly cried out for “Dog! Dog!” I really wanted him to just go to sleep, so in desperation I got out an old stuffed black bear I had and gave it to him, telling him it was a dog. Worked like a charm. He calmed down and was soon asleep. I put the Bwun in his crib and the bear on the dresser.

Can you guess what happened the next morning? The Bwun wanted his “dog” as soon as he woke up. I heard him from the other room saying it over and over again.

I do have some sense, so we headed to Toys R Us that day to pick out an actual stuffed dog. I put 5 different types in front of the Bwun but apparently he’s not old enough to really choose – although he did keep pointing at a giraffe and calling it “dog.” Since the choice fell to me, I picked a husky. The Romgi and I plan to someday own a husky (not for a long while), so it seemed like a good start.

By the time we made it back to the car the Bwun was in love with his new dog.

But he still thought the bear was a dog.

And then he thought every animal was a dog.

We have a pet rat: it is “dog.” The stuffed monkey I was forced into buying is “dog.” The cat outside is “dog.” The bird chirping outside the window is “dog.” The only exception seems to be the large stuffed turtle in our bedroom, which comes out something like “durl.” Hey, it’s different enough. And he recognizes a real-live dog when he sees one. Sometimes we go on walks just so we can find some dogs.

Are you convinced? The Bwun is obsessed. Dogs, dogs, dogs.

Dog and bear. And Bwun.

Tee hee.