best part? already lost the coupon

Last semester, I bought a bag of cookies from a vending machine, and there were only three cookies in it. Dennis told me I could write them a letter, send them the bag, and they would send me a free box of cookies. It took a few months, but I finally mailed the damn thing.

A couple days ago, I got this in the mail:

"Dear Mr. Max Hurwitz,

We appreciate the time you took to report the experience you had with Famous Amos Chocolate Chip Cookies, and apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you.

Our goal is to provide customers with wholesome, high-quality products. Stringent quality control measures are set for each of of our manufacturing process from the delivery of raw materials through the distribution of packaged foods.

You have the right to expect top-quality products from our company, and we make a concerted effort to maintain the highest standards with every package we produce. Many inspections take place during the packaging operation to prevent a situation like the one you reported. Occasionally, a partially-filled or unfilled package may get through the system undetected.

We value the comments you have shared with us and will report them to our Quality Assurance team for follow-up. The information that you provided will help ensure that our products and services continue to meet the highest quality standards.

We hope you will be pleased with your next purchase, and are sending a coupon for you to use the next time you shop.

Sincerely,
Natalie Felix
Consumer Affairs Department"

That response sounded like it came directly from the "politically correct things to say to an upset customer" manual. "We value the comments you have shared with us"? Come on, Kellogg's. You don't value shit.

I want my box of fucking cookies.

northwest bound

There's only one word that could possibly describe my Thanksgiving weekend in the Pacific Northwest: indigestion.

Yes, there was a considerable amount of delicious food, but there was also a completely inexplicable bout of food poisoning, contracted from dinner Friday night.

Other than that, the trip was about as relaxing a trip home can be. Amy and I went to Port Townsend with my dad, Joan, and Brian, where they have a very nice house with a very nice view. It absolutely freezing, but the air was crisp and clear and I learned how to play Bocce ball, so all and all I'd consider that a good trip.

The next night Amy and I made it to Snohomish, where we had dinner with my mom and Patrick and lazed about the next day until it was time to fly home. All flights were on time, there were no crying babies, and I even made it to work on time this morning.

I hope everyone else's Thanksgiving went just as well, only warmer. And with less vomiting.

wasting away

So, it's 2 in the afternoon and we're sitting on the couch watching TV and I lean over to Amy and go, "Hey, are you hungry?"

She replies, "Yeah. My boyfriend doesn't feed me." I go and look in the fridge: condiments, juice, and probably-not-edible leftovers.

Now, those of you who know me may have noticed I'm not exactly "muscular", or "in shape", or even "relatively healthy". I'm rail thin. And pale. And a little skeletal.

Things weren't always this way. In middle school, I was actually quite chubby. A video-game-based lifestyle combined with a steady diet of fast food (caused by a 6-month remodel of our family's kitchen) left me a little porky.

Then, miraculously, I grew. Six inches. Gained zero pounds. But then I had a new problem. It didn't take long to realize I now couldn't gain weight. Hours of exercise, pounds of food -- I ended up looking exactly the same. So I gave up. I look like what I look like. No big deal.

But yesterday, at Mike's shoot, one of the actresses said I looked thinner than the last time I saw her. Later that day, Amy said pretty much the same thing.

Now this is a problem. I'm 20 years old. I should be past the pubescent "coming in to my own" phase. I shouldn't look like an escaped mutant from an Ed Wood film.

So I'm asking everyone for a favor. If you see me walking around, tell me to eat something. If I say I'm too busy, tell me to eat something. If I say I've already eaten, tell me to eat something. In fact, no matter what the next words out of my mouth happen to be, tell me to eat something.

Thank you all for your cooperation.

(Also -- tell me to start exercising. Healthy's good, but being fat really wasn't fun)