Simon Rules!

Following on from my rant about Monster Cables, here is the latest plight in my life. I got a satellite radio for my car in 2002 back when they were still pretty expensive, and I still have it now. It works, but the volume knob broke off. I glued it back on in only the special way I can, and now it is wonky (bent, for you US readers out there). So I called up Pioneer to get a replacement, and they sell one – for $35! This is for a piece of plastic – it doesn’t have the actual volume control included, just the little piece of plastic that you turn! They know you are not going to buy a whole new stereo over a matter of $35, so they can charge what they want.

Incidentally, I bought it.

This gets worse though. The radio comes with a little remote control for the most lazy driver who can’t even reach 24 inches over to the front panel to change the track. It takes one of those button batteries, and it has a small latch to keep the battery in. Note exhibit A:

This is a piece of plastic about 25mm across (an inch), and they charge $11.77 for it! It’s smaller than a freaking Lego brick! Hello people! You can hold the battery inside with a piece of tape!!

A couple of weeks ago I went to San Diego on business. When I arrived, I waited for the usual eternity for my bag, before realising it must have gone missing. After that I had to queue up to speak to an airline official for ages, only to be told it was still in Denver. Great. I had left Denver three hours ago and my bag was still there.

This is where the fun begins. I arrived in my hotel room to be greeted by a large “P” scrawled on the mirror in some kind of grease.

Feeling brave, I decided to check what was on the menu for room service. I looked on the desk and there was nothing, so I opened the drawer, and instead of the usual hotel information booklet and Latter Day Saints bible, I found an odd proclamation:

This actually scared me a little and I looked behind me expecting to have my head lopped off. This is when I noticed the smoke alarm hanging off the ceiling, probably from the last bloody massacre that occurred in the room.

The only thing I couldn’t photograph was the smell of paint in the room, obviously still strong because they had just painted over all the blood.

I asked for a new room.