Tag Archives: complaint

At Dollar Tree, “Everything’s $1.00” Hey, I should be RICH!

Post #18 from Kidlit’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

So I’m at the Food Lion with my mom. Dull enough. So I ask her if I can go to the dollar store next door. She says fine and then she says, “Oh, and just to show you what a great mother I am, you can buy the most expensive item in the store. It’s on me.” Then she starts laughing really loud. Oh, she was so pleased with herself.

What a thrill it is to have a mother who thinks she’s a professional comedian!

So anyway I go and I get a great idea when I see their sign.
I go inside and get in the check-out line. When it’s my turn I say, “I’d like to buy everything in this store.”

The lady looked at me with this Yeah, right! look on her face so I said the same thing again. “And here’s my dollar,” I said and I showed her a dollar bill.

She still was looking at me funny so I had to explain. “See, your sign says, ‘Everything’s $1.00,’ right?”

She said, “So?”

And I’m like, “Well, if everything’s $1.00, I want everything in here for a dollar. You can just start putting all of it in some of those bags you have there and I’ll come back later with a bunch of trucks and get the rest.”

It was at this point that she went and got the manager.

I stood my ground. The manager was not happy. “Young man, I don’t know what side of the bed you got up on today, but you’re making no sense. That sign means that every item in this store is $1.00.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And that’s exactly what I’m asking for. Everything in the store for a dollar.”

Ooh, he was getting hot. “Are you dumb or something?” His voice was getting louder. “Anyone can tell that means each thing in the store is a dollar. That means a dollar each.”

“Then the sign should say, ‘Each thing is $1.00,’” I said. I had him and he knew it. By now a couple other people were crowded around and at least one of them was smiling. But it didn’t do me any good.

“Kid,” he said. “You need a life.” And he walked away. I tried to follow him but he went in the back of the store and didn’t come out.

I was stuck. I knew my mom would probably walk in soon and I wasn’t sure she’d be real happy with my genius move. So I left. I didn’t bother to tell my mom about it.

But I was right. I know I was. If there are any lawyers out there who want to help me sue the store for false advertising, you can reach me through Freaky Dude Books. Hey, you might get some national publicity out of it. Think of it — a big store treating a poor, innocent kid like that. I could be your ticket to stardom. I could get on tv and cry about how I’d been cheated and mistreated.

I’ll be waiting.

From your Ranter of Record and Your Teller of Truth,
Dr. Crankenfuss

I come to praise a hair salon, not to bury it

Post #13 from Kidlit’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog–

No, no, I don’t go to hair salons. I go to a barber shop, thank you very much. (Though actually the last two times my mom cut my hair and nobody could tell the difference, least of all my hair.) But we were driving — Confession: I wasn’t driving. I’m using the editorial “we” here — in Cary, NC, and we saw this sign for a hair place and the name was Curl Up & Dye. My mom started laughing and — I hate to admit it — then she had to explain the joke to me. But even if I WAS a dumb bunny at the time, I think it’s a cool name for a salon.

Husband: What are you going to do today, honey?

Wife: Oh, I want to go to Curl Up & Dye?

Husband: Oh, no, don’t say that. I’m sorry for saying I didn’t like your brussel sprouts last night. They were really quite excellent. Let me help, please!

Wife: What for? I just want to go to Curl Up & Dye. It’s time for a change.

Husband: What?? Don’t you move, sweetie. I’m calling 911.

So congratulations to Curl Up & Dye. BTW, I looked it up on the web and it gets tons of ***** reviews.

Sorry I didn’t have anything to rant and rave about today. Hope you’ll forgive me.

From Dr. Crankenfuss, your (out-of-sorts) Cranky (but certainly not Stanky or Skanky) Curmudgeon

P.S. That title for the post comes from Julius Caesar, the Shakespeare play. They’re making us read, uh, be tortured by it in English class. No wonder the Roman Empire fell. They bored everybody to death by speaking in iambic pentameter all the time.

New FDB video goes online

Post #11 from Kidlit’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog–

What, no complaints?? Sorry, dudes, today Dr. Crankenfuss is actually impressed with something. Daniel has just posted the latest video from Freaky Dude Books. He says he doesn’t know whether to call it a poetry video or video poetry, but I don’t really care, it’s still pretty good. Who thought such an old fart could create anything decent, much less something actually good? It helped that he had a good actor (Michael Thompson). Not to give too much away, but the bloopers at the end are my favorite part. Oh, yeah, the way he makes the pictures match up to the beat of the music in the middle is pretty cool too.

Anyway, you can look at the video by clicking here or you can go to the Videos Page and look at a bunch more.

For those of you who thought I was kidding in the heading and that I’d deliver my usual dose of ranting genius, sorry to disappoint you. I guess you could say I’m out of sorts today. Hey, don’t worry ’bout it. Just check out the video. In the meantime, I’ll be looking for something to get me back on track.

Doesn’t this tick you off, Mr. Clop?

Post #10 from Kidlit’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog–

I love Greek and Roman myths. Forget Batman, X-Men, ET, Teletubbies, Ninja Knotheads, forget all of them cause they don’t hold a candle to the Greek and Roman guys. Don’t believe me? Check em out, you’ll see. Anyway, I’m reading The Odyssey for like the gazillionth time (+ 1) and I’m at the story of Ulysses and the cyclops. You know, that giant with one eye in the middle of his head and Ulysses sticks this long burning stick right in the man’s eye, which kind of annoys him just a bit and… anyway, it’s wonderful and painful and gross, all the stuff I find worthy, you know, when it comes to literature. And I had a question.

Why do they call this guy the cyclops? Shouldn’t it be cyclop? I mean, he only has one eye, doesn’t he? And clop is probably ancient Greek for eye. Now I don’t know exactly what cy means. One is the obvious choice, but I’m not sure. Maybe that was like his first name, like Sy nowadays is short for something like Seymour or Simon or Cyrus or Cyril or whatever. Cyclone? Anyway, that dude probably had a regular name like Simon Clop and people shortened it to Cy Clop. That’s the way I see it anyway. (Get it? See?) But there’s no way it would have been clops. After a couple thousand years, people probably copied it down wrong, that’s all.

So all your mythology experts out there, just lissen up to old Crankenfuss and he’ll get you straightened out when it comes to the things that matter.

From your Teller of Truth, Dr. Crankenfuss

Hey Little Baby, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT NEXT TIME, OKAY?

Post #9 from Kidlit’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog–

OOH, the doctor is less than happy!!!!! He just got back from the movies and he’s so ticked he can hardly type. But he’ll do his best to explain what happened.

How’s this for a nice setup? You go to the IMAX to see Puss in Boots in 3D with a couple of your best buds. You get seats right in the middle where the screen is as big as North America and you have on those glasses and just the intro to the Dolby Sound System makes your ears so happy they try to put on party hats. Then the movie starts and you’re in heaven till… W-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-H!! Some baby starts wailing nearby. Nearby as in the seat just in front of you to the left. Like fingernails on your ear drums. You’d think the mother would whisk her bratty little kid out of the theater and give hundreds of paying customers a little peace and quiet. Think again. The lady puts her lil punkin head on her shoulder and tries to comfort her/him/whatever. (It was hard to tell.) The baby quiets down to maybe half the volume as before — maybe police siren level — and then lets out a nice portion of barf right on you know who’s leg. Only then does the lady get up and muscle her way toward the aisle. I’m sitting there, my chin somewhere near my belly button in amazement, while my two (former) friends are laughing so hard they’re practically shooting their Cokes up through their noses. So I do what I have to. Try to get out of there as unmessily as possible. Guess what. It was impossible. I ended up getting barf on either the people I was trying to slide past or on the backs of the chairs right in front of them. Of course, they got mad at ME!! Like it was my fault!!

So I finally get out of there to the bathroom and have to spend 10 or 20 minutes pretty much trying to get into the sink to get my pants less filthy. Bad enough in itself but think about the other people coming in. I tried to explain to the first couple, but it sounded so bad, I just shut up and kept my eyes down. But I knew everybody was staring at me and probably telling their friends what a doof I was.

When I finally get to my row, this man demands that I clean up the mess I left on the seat back in front of him. What am I going to do? Say “Make that lady do it?” She wasn’t even back yet. So there I went, back to the refreshments counter where I had to ask for some paper towels, then come back and do what the guy said, then leave again to throw away the trash.

Was I having fun yet?

I finally got back to my seat and then here comes back that lady with the baby. At least the little creature has calmed down. Boy, was I wrong! Two minutes later, like Ke$ha says, “This place about to blow.” More chunks, smaller and, as I was to find out, even harder to dispose of. The only good thing was my friend next to me got at least a bit of the overflow. And some of it went in his Coke.

I’ll spare you the rest of the details. I’ll just say, “Lady Lunkhead and Barfbaby, whatever your names are, if I ever find you, you owe me $10, you owe my friend $10, and you owe me a new pair of jeans, and much, much more.” How much I’m still trying to figure out. But it’s going to be a lot.

Till then, I’m a very PO’d Dr. Crankenfuss