eBay En-Tree-Pren-Ooo-Ers

I've just purchased a really nice ring on eBay. It's a designer item and - in all honesty - I'm actually only interested in the box... seriously.

The ring is in the U.S of A (a good place to buy designer cast-offs) and the guy I purchased it off is a budding entrepreneur that we will call Neddy.

Neddy not only has his own eBay store where he sells expensive stuff on consignment, but he also has a couple of blogs whereas he shares his infinate wisdom on his plans for 'just being' and running a successful business with nil overheads. Neddy ends all correspondence with 'Light'... which is kind of cool... if you are into that kind of thing.

Neddy appears to be a pretty nice guy.

The problem is that Neddy doesn't follow his own advice and, obviously, doesn't appear to read his own blogs or even take note of his uni degree in Entrepreneurial Studies. Which is not good when it is your own plans, ideas and goals that you are writing about... are we cool on this? Light...

Neddy goes on about having nil overheads by selling on consignment only. It appears that Neddy feels not having to pay for storage is a good way to save money. Problem is that it doesn't save time, either. What Neddy fails to realise is that getting that highly desirable item out to the buyer (who has paid for it quickly because they want it quickly) is the way to good feedback - which is the way to more sales... meaning, of course, more money for Neddy to spend on 'just being'.

Our good mate Neddy must also have nil overheads on office equipment, because it appears he has to wait in line at the local library to use their free internet. Answering emails promptly is good business... answering it three days later (or not at all) is not.

Neddy also goes on about adding in packaging etc to the auction price, hence no overheads there either. What Neddy fails to realise is that adding in extras - like fuel, packaging, travel, wear and tear on shoes, time waiting in queue and possibly even a snack on the way back home AFTER the final price has been given at auction is one of the quickest ways to piss off a buyer.

He also fails to notice that the USPS website quotes actual postage costs for every country on the planet... how clever is that! You can work out precise costs, including insurance, and how long it will take for your parcel to arrive... you can even track it online to see where in the world it currently is... neato! Therefor, quibbling over postage is a bit silly, when the buyer already knows the who, why, where and cost they should be paying.

Neddy...dude... once a person pays you for an item, it belongs to them! You are actually obligated to provide them with not only the item, but the tracking details/options they have paid for. This should happen reasonably soon, not when you happen to wander past the post office on your way to the beach because the surf is really gnarly today!

PayPal Neddy, PayPal... is the buyer's friend. If we pay for something and don't get it, we get our money back. One of the best ways for a seller to protect themselves is by following PayPal guidelines and insuring the item, and by following PayPal guidelines and making sure the buyer also pays for tracking on the item. Your ass is then covered... unless you take the payment from the buyer who requested this coverage and then fail to do so... then Neddy... your ass is grass...

... and you suddenly have your first overhead... from PayPal.

So, Neddy... I'm still waiting for an email from you to let me know that you have received my payment, have mailed my item and have a tracking number for me. If you haven't got around to that yet and are having trouble understanding the concept, I know of an awesome blog that will give you the finer points of starting an eBay business.

There's a really good paragraph on not getting greedy about postage fees, and there's even one about good communication. You may want to give them a quick flick over when you get back from the beach... I hear the surf down at the beach near the post office is pretty gnarly at the moment.

Me? I'll just sit over here in a nice spot and wait for Neddy to see the Light...

Bang bang... you're red...

I was down at Woollies the other night grabbing the biggest bag of Mozarella cheese I could find (for the biggest Mozarella eating boyfriend I know), when I happened to take a short cut down the aisle that hosts all things feminine.

I wandered past a pair of ladies chatting happily away at the top of the aisle, meandering past cosmetics and cheap cotton underwear, until I came across two cute little boys - aged about 3 or 4 - sitting on the floor.

From the sounds of them, they were having a blast. The instantly internationally recognisable sounds of pretend gunfire and bombs, and yells of 'incoming' and 'charge', indicated that they were playing soldiers... very cute.

It wasn't until I actually stopped to look in on their game that I realised what their weapons of choice were...

They'd torn open about 3 boxes of tampons (ensuring they each had a different colour in order to define ranks and sides) and were having a great old time bombing, blowing up, shooting and maiming the opposing tampons.

I wanted to hang around to see what happened when their mothers noticed their game but was short on time, so I trotted off laughing to myself.

I wondered on the way home who had actually won the 'Great CareFree Battle of 2009 on the Woollies Plains'... and whether two small boys got their asses whooped when they got home.

Smells like...

I just got back from dragging my sick, sorry arse out to shop for supplies - no shoppie, no eatie - basically.

The Hills Orchid Society had a massive display of stunning flowers at the Winston Hills Mall... very impressive. So, I figured I would walk through the display and inhale the luscious scent of expensive flowers, hoping to make myself feel a little better... only to find out that...

Orchids smell like piss.

Knock knock...

I had a rather heated discussion the other night with a work colleague over the rather annoying (and in my opinion, extremely rude) habit of certain religeous groups to knock on your door, touting their god-products.

First up, before all you god-fearing folk start burning my house down... this is not just about religeon, it's about respecting other people's ideas and the fact that 'a man's home is his castle'. You don't just march up to someone's home and tell them that everything they have ever believed in is wrong. THAT is just bloody rude!

Whether it's football, religeon or politics - in this country, everyone has the right their own opinion and, above all, the right to do as they please in their own home.

Which includes discouraging 'door-knocking-opinion-givers' in whatever way they choose. I choose to be rude to them, quite simply because they are being rude to me by having the gall to think they have the right to tell me what to do in my own home. They use the excuse that they are spreading 'the word' or only trying to help me. Bullshit...

Did 'your' Jesus doorknock? No... he would have got his arse kicked to the curb. So, instead of door knocking, how about you try doing what 'your' Jesus did... call the people unto him! Drop a pamphlet in my mailbox - if I want to be saved, I will call you. It's that easy, people... practise what you preach and for crying out loud... READ YOUR BIBLE. Don't just pull out the bits that are relevant to you and adapt them to suit yourself.

Personally... I have waged a little war against 'door knocking' or 'money-grabbing' religeons - sometimes with the help of two unknowing friends who - of all things - hate each other based entirely on the other's choice of 'door knocking' team. Pretty stupid, eh?

Here's a sample of a few things I've done over the years, I've pulled out a few that relate to god-squaddas - I like to refer to them as 'Global Domination by Methods of Hilarity':

1) Watch the Benny Hind god-squadda show... listen to tale of 'How I gave my last 10c to the lord and he gave me $1000' (whilst noticing he has diamond buttons and cufflinks)... ring the 'donation' number and try to convince the lady to agree to the deal that I will donate 10c if they send me a cheque for $1000.00.

2) Take details of a friend who is a member of one 'door-knocking' religion... fill them into a form on the website of another 'door knocking' religion... of which another friend is a member... then return the favour with their details to the first friends website.

3) Blind 'Conference Call' two people from opposing 'door knocking' teams who hate each other... a lot. Best time to do this is on a Sunday morning around 7am, just as everyone is getting ready to go to church. Snicker quietly to yourself as you listen to them accusing each other of trying to make them late for church!

4) When a 'door knocker' comes to your door, politely refuse them, but give them the details of a dear, dear friend who really needs their help (namely your friend from the opposing 'door knocker' team.) Return the favour when the alternate team arrives on your doorstep (as they always do) a few days later!

5) Listen patiently - and with a big smile on your face - when a couple of young blokes riding bikes and wearing name tags stop you in the street for a chat. Wait until they notice you haven't replied then ask, "May I borrow your bike? I had to sell mine to buy beer and my welfare payment isn't due until next week'.

6) When 'door knockers' come to your home, have one of your children bark and growl at them through the security screen door. Explain to them that he/she is possessed and the blood of christians is the only thing that quietens them. If they offer to assist in any way, thank them and ask if they have AIDS or Hep' C. Give your child a big hug as the offenders make their escape at high speed down your driveway.

Seat 666 has just been reserved for me in the first-class section of Hell...

Burying the past

I was watching a piece on TV the other day about a bunch of school kids out west somewhere burying a 'time capsule'. It brought back memories of when I was in primary school, how we all put something we thought would be interesting to people in the future into a plastic container and buried it under a tree.
We put in class photos, coins, newspapers... the usual stuff a seven-year-old would think people would be interested in.

But sitting here now, I realise back then that while that stuff was cool, how accurate a picture of life would it have been?

I decided that I would make up a list of things that should go into a more realistic representation of our lives in 2009...

1) An iPod loaded with a 'Rick Roll' to really screw the bastards up... never gonna give you up.. never gonna let you down... never gonna AAAARRRGGH!!
2) A hand-shaped back scratcher on a long stick from Go-Lo. Ha Ha! Imagine the buggers trying to work that one out! One of them would write a thesis on how we must have been hand-worshippers and it was probably a sceptre of some description
3) A packet of cigarettes... let's show them how silly we really were
4) A picture of John Howard... they'll think we all looked like badgers
5) A Ralph magazine, some twat will think it is a guide to fertility rituals
6) A Chiko Roll. Why? Because it will STILL be edible
7) A can of Coke - in 2000 years it should still be drinkable
8) Michael Daley... well hell, WE don't want him!
9) A Star Wars figurine - they'll think we knew more about space travel then we actually do
10) A Snuggy... so we all look like Yoda!

So, basically this will confirm to them that we are junk food worshipping fat bastards, who love Rick Astley, dress like Yoda, root a lot and worship hand-sceptres... that ought to screw 'em!

Tell ya what I want, what I really really want!

Ring Ring... Ring Ring... Ring Ring...

S: Hello?
T: Hi, I'm from 'Blah Blah Telemarketing' in Melbourne and we are doing research into what NSW people want.
S: (silence)
T: Hello?
S: Sorry, I'm just thinking about what I want...
T: Oh...
S: (silence)
T: (silence)
S: Got it!
T: Uh... yes well..
S: Dinner!
T: Sorry?
S: I want pain in the ass telemarketers from Melbourne to piss off and let me eat my dinner in peace
T: CLICK!

Mating rituals

I've been house-bound for some weeks due to being ill (not under home detention for stealing donuts from small children, as rumours seem to indicate) so it was with great delight that I was unleashed back into the general populous yesterday morning. I had to renew my driver's license so headed off to the local RTA.

As usual there was a massive lineup, so I grabbed my ticket from the machine and grabbed a seat. Directly in my line of sight was a young bloke of around eighteen, of unidentifiable nationality, who was so blatantly intent on picking up that it was laughable. Let's call him Wally... for obvious reasons.

The first indication that Wally wasn't in the same mindframe as everyone else, was that he wasn't holding any paperwork, or even a numbered ticket. Add to that, he was paying no attention whatsoever to the indicator board ticking over the numbers as they were called to the counter. Wally was in foreign territory, it seemed.

Next up was the fact that it was 8.45 on a Saturday morning, it was only around ten degrees, foggy and rainy. People were bleary eyed, sniffly and rugged up to the hilt, with many (including myself) who looked like they had just got out of bed. But not Wally... he was primed to go.

He was wearing a tight singlet-like top, fashionably creased jeans and shiny leather boots. He had just about every piece of jewellery he owned around his neck and had obviously spent a great deal of time and hair product getting his tossled look just right. Notably, he had postioned himself directly under the airconditioning heating duct... which made me assume that this was not the first time he'd hunted in this terrain.

The body language was obvious: Aggressive crotch-display seating position, arms carefully folded to ensure his wrists pushed out his bicep muscles, casual lean to one side and oh-so-sexy half-smirk on his face. He knew he was the Alpha Male in the room and had staked his claim to any females that strayed into his domain. Thing is, poor Wally wasn't exactly the most attractive of guys...

He would've weighed around sixty kilos wringing wet and had a rather frighteningly large over-bite. Add acne and body odour... you get the picture. But these appeared to go unnoticed by Wally and he hunted on, regardless.

First target was a young Asian girl who wandered into his strike zone. She sat directly across from him and made the mistake of making eye contact. Wally fluffed himself up, leaned forward and gave her a wink. I nearly laughed out loud when the young lady responded by coughing loudly and moving seats. But Wally was undeterred and postured himself, ready for the next female to approach.

Next up was a woman, 30-ish and well dressed. She sat nearby and was honoured with Wally shifting into a standing crotch-display position (thumbs hooked into beltloops and index fingers pointing to 'the goods'). He gave her his best chin-lift and dazzling smile. She simply looked away, but Wally pushed on. The next time she glanced up, he winked and motioned for her to come over. At this point I could no longer stifle my amusement and laughed out loud.

This resulted in the entire room craning to look at the crazy lady laughing to herself, so I hunched down in my seat, pulled my jacket around me and pretended I wasn't there.

The lady gave him one of the best 'Go Fark Yourself, Buddy' looks I have ever seen. It was beautifully executed and a ten-out-of-ten. Wally sat back down and concentrated his efforts to the next closest target, a woman with two small children. He was dutifully ignored, despite him trying every trick he knew. Again, I laughed and was met with quizzical looks - one man even moved away from me.

I was called to the counter at this point, had my photo taken and then returned to my seat to wait for my new license. In the meantime, Wally had managed to get a girl to talk to him. She was a rather scruffy looking lady (totally out of place in Castle Hill), but this didn't seem to bother Wally, he was putting on his best mating display - and it seemed to be working for him. He was grinning from ear to ear posturing his little heart out, he was a man on a roll...

...until she tried to bum a few dollars off him.

I burst out laughing when he got up and walked out. Funny thing was, she followed him outside and as I was getting into the Jimny, she was hitting him up for a cigarette as well... he looked suitably horrified.

Seems beggars can't be choosers... either way!