May 2007


Recent events have led me to the conclusion that 1-800-FLOWERS is the actual devil!

I ordered a dozen fucking frezia for my sister on her birthday (in a clear glass  vase with a mylar ‘happy birthday’ balloon) and the fuckers never delivered it.  I was even up in L.A. doing that voice over crap for the Transformers movie and I went by her work and was expecting a big hug for being such a hero with flowers and crap and there was nothing there.  It was like tumbleweeds and dust.

So I gave them a couple days and still nothing.  Finally I decided that I wasn’t gonna take this shit any more.  I called up and somehow was teleported into 1-800-flowers hell.

The 1-800-flowers hell list 666:

– I spent 35 minutes 11 seconds on the phone.  HOLY FUCKFIRE!?!

– woman was CRAZY!  sounded like some abandoned cat woman who was continually acting like an old granny even though she was probably only 40 years old.

– she had a scratchy voice so bad at times that all i heard was the odd random clicking of her throat into the receiver.   it was entirely insect, no human intonations could be heard, it was like trying to have a conversation with a god damn preying mantis.

– she would make these self sacrificing remarks about how hard she was working and how nice I was and how much people love to get flowers.  God, it was like talking to some insane homeless bible beater.

” I’m already 20 minutes past my break but I don’t mind.  You’re so sweet and people really need to get their flowers.  I’m just sitting here watching the computer screen.  Mothers day is coming up and we have so many orders.  People really need to get their flowers.  I’m glad you didn’t hang up on me, I’m so quiet sometimes.  I think I need to breathe heavier so people still know I’m here.  I am here though.  Helping people get their flowers.  Thats whats important in life.. flowers… and people getting their flowers… and flowers.  Thanks for being so patient with me, I just want to make absolutely sure that you get your flowers.”

FUUUUCK it was insane.  I wanted to massage my brain with a golf clete when the call was over.  The fucked up thing is that I got a call hours later from another representative that told me that the crazy lady fucked everything up and I had to go through the whole process again just to get my fucking $69.25 refund.

On a happier note I am posting a new submission from our old friend Mr. Bloggs about;

HOW TO: Kill a Tree

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