Steve-o Mail Pirate strikes again

(sigh)

Canada Post mail service is not a toy!

I'm pleased to declare that the Sylvie Ruel/Reliance Home Comfort Crisis appears to have been resolved. I haven't recieved any mail for poor Sylvie in a few months now. It may be going to Pluto or the Hockey Hall of Fame thanks to my efforts, granted, but at least it's no longer my problem.

Now.

Who's responsible for this?

Mrs. Cheddar Sneeze?

Come on. Who did this? 'Fess up!

.

Letter to Proctor & Gamble

I'm sending this letter today:

P&G Canada
P.O. Box 355, Station A
Toronto, Ontario M5W 1C5

Dear sir or madam:

I’m concerned about the lid for the deodorant I purchased recently called Gillette Right Guard Sport Active Deodorant with NEW! Fresh Scent!

The lid is designed to fit perfectly flush with the rest of the apparatus forming a simple unified shape. It’s my observation that it has long been the convention in the deodorant world for products of this shape to be designed with such a lid fitting very snugly. Thus when customers reach for the product they need not take caution to pick up the unit by the bottom portion necessarily and need not take care to hold it upright lest the lid fall off. Such casual use of the product would seem encouraged by the manufacturers as the design does not make the body and lid particularly distinguishable.

However the lid of my new Right Guard Sport Active Deodorant with NEW! Fresh Scent! fits very loosely.

This morning I picked up the unit by the lid and the container portion immediately fell away. As I was in the motion of pulling it away from the shelf, the momentum carried the unit roughly three and a half feet west of the cabinet on its path to the floor.

Alas – it did not hit the floor. Do you know what obstacle lies on my bathroom floor roughly three and a half feet west of the cabinet? I think you can guess.

The shot was a perfect one. Swish. No rim.

To your credit, I’m pleased to say that your product floats very nicely and was thus easily retrieved.

However I fear that future enjoyment of your NEW! Fresh Scent! will be hampered by the constant knowledge of the environment this product has visited however briefly – a place not in any way conducive to fresh scents.

It’s my hope that you will share some thought on this matter.

Sincerely,
Fantasy Writer Guy

Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the mailbox

Oh, how upsetting.

And here I was gearing up to announce an end to the hostilities.

The evil Reliance people dropped their mailing frequency to once per month and then it had been so long I thought it was all over. Thought they'd surrendered. Alas, not so. But while they're down and barely kicking I shall deliever this blow. I pray this will mark the end of the struggle.

Not at this address! Resident has shrunken to one millionth her former size. Now living on a fibre of Dick Beddoes hat at the Hockey Hall of Fame along with seven dust mites named Spiggles, Xorb, Loof-loof, Dusty, Sneebleshnorpenl%%r, Grumpy and Doc. This letter is too big to be received there. Get your Shit together people! It's too big! Write a smaller letter!

The war rages on

I'm growing weary of this battle. I shall have to pull out the troops soon.

Bring it on, Reliance... bring it on.

Okay - is it my imagination or are these mailings actually coming more frequently? Have those little turdmuffins at Reliancehomecomfort-adivisionofontariohydroenergy actually ramped up their operations against me?

Would they do that?

Fools! Don't they know that my capacity for bitterness and cynicism runs far deeper than their postage budget?

If they must learn the hard way - so be it.

As you can see, I had some difficulty with the letter 'a' there. I find that the 'a' in 'least' is one of the more difficult a's to print. It's an ongoing struggle.

FWG

Ah... the fun with mail never ends

What would we do for fun without Canada Post? Watch old John Candy movies again and again?

The Phantom Coupon Mailer strikes again:





The coupons this time: Tampax tampons, Always Fresh femenine hygeine products and Clover Leaf tuna.

I'm not sure if that's some kind of theme or not.

Ground Control to Sylvie... Come in Sylvie...

Those gobslobbering Reliance people won't give up.

Well neither will I.

Sylvie Ruel Update

Well they did it again. Those little freaks at Reliance Home Comfort - they're crazy as shit-house rats I tell you. And as promised, I'm sending their latest offering back with a 'Final Notice' message scrawled on it. Although I'm having second thoughts about giving up just yet. If this doesn't work I may in fact try a couple more strategies.

I'll save Mark Cohen's solution for last - that of writing 'deceased' on the envelope. First - I think I'll try this if necessary:

Return to sender. Anthrax powder enclosed.

I'm thinking that might get someone's attention. I wonder if I might get into some hot water, though? That's not considered a post 9-11 faux-pas is it? I don't really want to get security certified by CCIS and disappear for three years over this. A brief prison stint might be a lark though. As long as they feed me and let me write all day. Think of the fun new experiences I could blog about. Shower-rape for instance. Laundry duty, mushy dinners of mysterious origin, digging tunnels behind Rita Hayworth posters, shower-rape. Oops. Did I say that one already?

There's still the hope of actually finding Sylvie Ruel. I'm sure she could put an end to all this with a simple phone call. While attempts so far to locate her via internet have failed I did notice that googling "Sylvie Ruel" brings up this blog as the number-one link! So if she has a single narcissistic bone in her body and happens to google herself (hee-hee! I love that phrase!) - she may just find her way here.

If you're reading this, Sylvie - please. Make the call.

FWG

More fun with mail

There are quite a few former Grotto of Cool residents (including - if my crazy Christian lady neighbor is to be trusted - one practitioner of the Wickan faith and one grandmaster daddy-o of the Masons) whos mail we receive regularly. Reliance company's penchant for Sylvie Ruel is just the tip of the iceberg.

However, this piece of mail was received yesterday and I have a sneaky suspicion that Mr. Orc-Wizard is not a former resident. Frankly I suspect I've been had.

Mr. Fantasy Dragonia Orc-Wizard. Very funny. Har har.

While Steve-o is certainly the prime suspect I would advise Captain Vino to come forth with an alibi should he have one.

FWG

Seeking Sylvie Ruel

Oh Sylvie. Where ARE you?

Okay – you don’t know me but I live in your former apartment. And I get all your mail now. Your companions at Reliance Home Comfort must be terribly worried about you. They send you correspondence incessantly despite my repeated advice that you are gone. Are you coming back one day? They seem convinced you are. I shall leave a candle burning in the window.

Poor Sylvie. I hope she’s not the victim of foul play. She must have left here (or been taken) awfully suddenly to have missed notifying all her associates of an address change. I get much of her mail but much especially from Reliance-Home-Comfort-A-division-of-Ontario-Hydro-Energy. This is either the ninth or tenth piece I shall return to them. I think next time I shall mark this upon the envelope:

*** FINAL NOTICE! *** The addressee no longer resides at this address! You are more likely to reach her – at any other address than this one! If you fail to heed this final notice the matter will be referred to our Department of Last Resort, meaning that all further mailings will not be returned to you but will be used as wiping material and flushed.

Do you think they’ll get the message?

Me neither.

Letter to Tim Hortons

I'm mailing the following letter today:

Steve Endrich
247 Queen St S #7
Streetsville, ON L5M 1L7


Tim Hortons Head Office
Corporate Affairs Dept
874 Sinclair Road
Oakville, ON L6K 2Y1


Dear Sir or Madam:

As an infrequent TV viewer I'm somewhat familiar with your line of TV commercials bearing the slogan 'Every cup tells a story'. I especially like the one where the immigrant reveals to his son the 40-year-old secret that he has covertly followed his hockey pursuits by displaying a portion of his son's team photo while they’re sitting in the stands at grandson Tommy's hockey game.

"You play wight ring," he says.

Excellent! Very touching.

I would like to share with you another story of one of your cups that you may not be aware of. It too is very touching, you'll surely agree.

'Brian' and 'Debbie' became acquainted on a telephone chat line and then met in person - for the first time - at one of your restaurants. Brian bought Debbie a double-double. She blew him in your parking lot. Years later they are still together, married and living in the Thunder Bay area.

I assure you this is a true story. I think this would make an excellent commercial that would really resonate with TV viewers.

If you would like to pursue this project I am available to share more details or for any other consultation. I do not require financial compensation.


Sincerely,
Steve Endrich


I'll let you know if I get a reply.

FWG

God bless the tartar

I had lunch today at my favorite restaurant. No, that's not true -- my favorite Etobicoke/Mississauga lunch venue. McNies Fish & Chips at Burnhamthorpe and Martin Grove. Actually - to be precise - they're now my former favorite Etobicoke/Mississauga lunch venue.

Something terrible has happened. Something unspeakably vile.

When the meal was done I calmly voiced my displeasure to a small contingent of waitresses. They were very sympathetic. They explained that they had a 'new boss'. And he had made some new decisions.

Teary-eyed, I made my way back to the office and promptly mailed this letter:


Jacob Tewtou
Mosaic Sales Solutions
2700 Matheson Blvd E., W-tower, 2-floor
Mississauga, ON L4W 4V9


Attention Manager
McNies Fish & Chips
315 Burnhamthorpe Road
Etobicoke, ON M9B 2A2


Dear “New Boss”,

It seems you and I have narrowly avoided becoming familiar acquaintances. I’ve been coming to McNies weekly for a long time (missing a week now and then, true, but coming twice the same week just as frequently).

I was there today. I ordered the usual. Two and a Few haddock, tea and two tartar sauces. But oh! The good waitress stopped me there and pointed guiltily at the brazen styrofoam cup sitting there on the table among the condiment gallery - only slightly apart from the others - looking defiant and with a brash sense of entitlement with all those slick and sickly looking packages sticking out of it like snakes from the head of Medusa!

Phony tartar sauce. Ugh!

I swallowed my shock! Choked back the horror. Calmly suppressed the gag reflex. Positive thinking. Perhaps I’d like it. Perhaps it would be - swell.

Au contraire mon ami! No like! Bad bad!

A tartar sauce must taste like mayonnaise and relish! There are no other options. This jaundiced cream-of-deceit did not taste like mayonnaise and relish. No. It tasted more like molasses and Pine Sol! Like worn rubber and monkey sweat! like stale cake and diaper sprinkles! Salt and dandelions! Piss and apples! Sugar and bleach! I noticed each packet holds about 10 cc’s. I pray that is merely a disturbing coincidence.

I’m in despair. I formed an immediate plan, you know. To locate the makers of this blarney imposter - this faux tartar. And to blow up their headquarters! But alas, I’m a pacifist. So my only recourse is this letter.

Respond to me when your noble home-made tartar sauce is rightfully enthroned again. When this vile paste has been banished. Respond to me then and not before. Don’t try to tempt me with flimsy excuses and tawdry coupons. I’m not some cheap hussy, you know. Stop the insanity! Lose the packages. Make your own tartar sauce. Make it.

If you make it, I will come.

If not, this is my sad farewell.


Sadly, farewell,

Jacob Tewtou


I hope to receive a response. I hope they know how to play ball. I shall keep you informed.

FWG